


Burning Red

by starwlkers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Still deciding between a Rick or Daryl pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwlkers/pseuds/starwlkers
Summary: Natasha wakes up in a world that is not her own, alone and clueless of this new world, she must now fight against a new type of evil: The Undead. In order to stay alive and hopefully find a way back home she bands together with a group of survivors and to figure out what is exactly going on and how it happened. In the process of saving herself, she might just save them too.*Edit: first 6 chapters were written in 2012 and are subject to expansion and editing. Newest chapters have been recently written.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, this story has been written on and off for the last few years. My writing style and development has changed as has my interpretations of characters and how I write them. Excuse any difference in tenses as I am slowly fixing those problems to better fit with my current style of writing. Hope you stick around and enjoy it.

The world came into Natasha's view slow and shaky. Her lungs burned and it felt as if a bomb had gone off near her head. Her mind had become cluttered and confused as she sat up from the hard asphalt road, the sight in front of her not at all comforting. Cars were wrecked and rusting all around and buildings seemed abandoned and ominous. Not to the mention the smell of burnt, rotting flesh.

Something was terribly wrong.

Already on guard, Natasha surveys her surroundings, checking for any sign of a threat. She slowly stands, her hand settling down on her gun holster, ready to shoot if needed. She reaches her left hand down to touch her ear piece, activating it.

"This is Agent Romanoff, please respond." She waits but is only met by a low crackle. It was busted.

Natasha sighs; this was going to be a problem. She begins her way through the wreckage, taking in all the details. It was clear to say that something terrible had happened in the last twenty-four hours. The main problem was that she had no idea what. Her mind seemed to be suppressing the events of the day before. All she knew was that Atlanta was seemingly no more.

Natasha turns the corner of the street pausing at the sound of a low moan. She flings her head up in alert and with a snap of her hand, her gun is ready to shoot. A tall, hunched over man limps his way towards Natasha. She swallows hard and takes a step back. 

"Sir, stay where you are." He only continued to make his way closer. An agitated glint surfaces in Natasha's eyes. "Sir, I repeat, stay put."

He groaned again, only this time, it sounded like a snarl erupting from an animal. Natasha steps back, never taking her eyes off him. The man lifts his head slowly, baring his rotting teeth and his ripped, burnt flesh picked skin. He began to charge her.

Natasha pulls the trigger, a loud crack erupts from the gun and in a second a bullet makes its way through the man's skull. Walking slowly and carefully, with her gun at her side, Natasha looks down over the man once more. It was strange; he had half his face eaten off and part of his throat ripped out. He should have been dead a long time ago.

Paranoia begins to creep its way in, leaving her at high alert. Something was ringing, not like a phone, but the sound of something being banged against metal gates and then there was a sharp shriek. And more groans and snarls. Natasha spins around, her eyes locking onto the swarm of seemingly zombified people. None of them look human or alive. They began to come towards her faster, blood lust clear on their mangled faces. Natasha fires round after round marking each one with a bullet in the head.

They don't slow down; more come, taking the place of the ones who had fallen to the ground. Natasha's heart speeds up, feeling as if a hammer was pounding in her chest. Her hands would have shaken if she wasn't trained to stay focused and calm. Her gun was running low on ammunition, each bullet that rang through the air she counted in her head. She had no time to reload. It was time to run.

Natasha runs quick and steady; the adrenaline was beginning to pump through her veins. She swings around shooting the ones getting too close for comfort. It wasn't enough. She turns another corner only to be met by a fence. She pulls herself over with ease; she wasn't about to let small jumps be a problem. She continues through the alley way, her speed never dwindling. She could hear the sounds of their snarls and cries, if Natasha had been anyone else, the sound might have frozen her in her place.

Natasha sped out into the open road; she could hear the sound of a car engine and the loud ring of an alarm. It was a red blur, coming quick and right at her. She ducks out of the way before it could hit her or come to a stop. The car skids on the asphalt and halts in the middle of the road. Natasha raises her gun high in front of her.

She moves closer to the car, close enough to see in the driver's window. "Quick, get in!"

Natasha turns around briefly, she can hear the low growls in the distance, and it was either this or potentially being mangled to death. She ran around the side and flung the door open, the alarm ringing in her ears. The engine rumbles loud and echoes through the air. Not doing much help if they are attempting to keep a low profile from the bizarre beings.

With her gun in her hand, Natasha looks the young man driving over dissecting every detail about him that she can. She ran off a list in her head. Young, most likely early twenties, of Asian descent, possibly Korean…

"Do you have a name? I'm Glenn." He was nervous but the adrenaline of a speeding car over shadowed it.

Natasha blinks, "You can call me Agent Romanoff."

"Agent? Do you work with the government?" He doesn't take his eyes off the road. 

"Not exactly," Her mind seemed to be racing as fast as her heart. She still had no idea what was going on, it was best to play along. Find out as much as possible.

"Oh, uh, I…" He stuttered a nervous sweat ran down his brow. "How did you get caught up in that back there?"

"I was compromised; I wasn't aware of my surroundings at the time and shot made a mistake, obviously a mistake on my part."

"Did you have a hideout and get run out?"

"You could say that." She knows she needs to get answers. "Where are we going?"

"A camp, we've been there for a while. We came to the city to get some supplies, we're running low." His hands are still shaky and his speech is fast with thrill but clear.

"We?"

"Yeah, there's a little over twenty of us. There are some other guys behind us too. We've kind of banded together. It helps. Better than being alone."

Natasha nods her head, a finger tapping on the barrel of her gun. She looks out the window; they were coming to a turn.

"We're almost there, quicker than usual, thanks to the car. The others shouldn't be that far behind."

They stopped after a few sharp turns and skids. Natasha could see people rushing up to the car and a frantic blond girl with a panicked face. She could hear their muffled voices through the windows.

"My sister, where's sister? Is she okay?"

"Turn that damn thing off!"

"I don't know how!"

"Pop the hood!"

The alarms shut off abruptly, leaving a strange silence in the air. Natasha opens the door and steps out slowly as everyone's eyes shift towards her.

"And who is this, Glenn?" An older man asks, looking at her carefully.

Just as Glenn is about to speak, Natasha swiftly cuts him off. "Agent Romanoff. Natasha Romanoff."

Before anyone else could get in, a white van pulled in, stealing away the attention. The young blond girl who had been crying out before is running towards another, a woman, who grips her tight and doesn't let go.

Then everything seems a bit slow, a man, dressed in a policeman uniform, (small-town cop, Natasha deducts) looks choked up as he makes his way towards everyone. The dark-haired woman and the boy with her look up, their faces are full of shock and awe. The boy smiles and cries out.

"Dad! Dad!"

It's a nice moment, even Natasha can see it. Even if Stark still thinks she can't feel anything.

Surprisingly, they accept her in(Shane still looks at her wearily), a little foolish on their part Natasha thinks but then again she doesn't know the full story of what going on. It's a little while later when they're all sat together, the sun had gone down and a chill is in the air. Natasha hardly feels it through the thick material of her SHIELD uniform.

Rick Grimes is bunched up with his family, telling his story, how he got here. Natasha is still trying to wrap her head around the fact of Zombies (or Walkers as they call them), she knows enough to know that it didn't just happen overnight. It's been weeks. The explosion must have done more damage than she thought, trapped in another universe. Honestly, stranger things had happened. The attack on New York was still a fresh wound in her mind.

"Ms. Romanoff, how'd you run into Glenn?" The older man, Dale, asks.

"I ran into a walker and made the mistake of shooting it. Dozens were after me in a minute." She knows better than to tell the exact truth, she doesn't know what it will do to this world. "I ran through a few alley ways and found myself in front of his speeding car."

"Nice going, Glenn. Almost run the girl over." It comes from Amy, she laughs lightly.

"Where are you from anyway?"

"New York."

"Long way from home, isn't it?"

Natasha nods.They had no idea. 

"Well, what are we going to do about Daryl Dixon?"


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joyriding out of the city Natasha finds herself right back in it. She heads along with a few of the others help bring back Merle Dixon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please excuse any tense fluctuations as I am slowly fixing those problems. This chapter is about Natasha beginning to get a feel of what this world is.

Natasha left her donated sleeping bag, stretching as she as she looked around. Her suit was gone. In place of it was a pair of dark blue jeans and a slightly worn out dark green v-neck shirt. She slipped them on after thoroughly checking them, all her weapons and gear were still hidden in the same spot she had placed them last night.

The sun shone brightly over the camp, shining in Natasha's eyes before she spotted Carol and Lori with a familiar black body suit on top of an ironing board. She walked up to the woman, meeting her eye, who in return smiled weakly at her.

"I got your outfit last night; I thought you'd like it clean."

Natasha continues to stare at her for a moment and Carol fidgets a little under her gaze. Natasha gives her a small smile. "Thank you."

Carol looks relieved. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your...suit for?"

"It's a standard issue uniform, with a few adjustments in mind for me. Specially made for my job requirements and…lifestyle in mind, it helps."

Lori raises her eyebrows. "What kind of job did you have?"

"I worked for a special part of the government, we dealt with more sensitive matters, and this would most likely be one of them." Natasha knows she's telling too much already, she still has to be careful but she needs their trust. Or at least some of it for the time being, until she can decide what she needs to do.

"Most likely? You don't know? Could they help us?"

"I've been cut off from them, no idea where they are or what happened to them."

Lori looks disappointed and frustrated. Carol is busy scrubbing away at an old blood stain on the inside of her uniform. "I couldn't wash the outside very well, the water just rolls off. It's well made and certainly seems handy to have."

"We'll have it ready for you as soon as it dries," Lori gives her a tight smile before gathering an armful of clothes and going over to an empty clothes line.

Natasha walks up the slight up hill, going over to the car that had brought her to the camp. A few of the men were just beginning to strip it down, beginning with the most valuable assets first. Glenn looks horrified, a constant marathon of "why, why, why…" streaming out of his mouth.

"Maybe we'll get to steal another one."

Shane walks over to them, his arms crossed. "So, I hear from Glenn you worked in the government."

Natasha eyes Shane, "You heard correctly, officer."

"What'd you do?"

"I worked with an agency called SHEILD."

Rick and Shane both squint in confusion, "I've never heard of it before."

"Of course you haven't, it was a classified organization. Only the highest level of personal and government knew about it. We dealt with the more…sensitive matters."

"Are they still up and running?" Rick asks the look on his face means all business.

To be honest, Natasha doesn't even know herself. SHEILD might not even exist in this world. "I have no idea; my only source of contact was damaged. I can no longer reach them."

Before anyone else can get another word in there's a blood -curdling scream that sends a shock through all their spines and they all look around swiftly, looking for who's missing.

Another scream, followed by young girls yell.

"Momma! Momma!"

Natasha's gun is already in her hands, loaded and ready to shoot. She runs after Rick and goes through the bushes of the woods. Two kids come out running, fear distorting their faces. Natasha isn't quite sure what she expected to find but what she does is a walker, kneeling on the ground and eating from a dead deer's the neck of a dead deer. It doesn't even notice them at first, just continues ravaging at it, tearing out its flesh and meat, devouring it in a bloody mess. It's revolting.

Then it turns towards them, hissing and growling. Before it can take another step Rick swipes it across the head. The rest of the men join in, crushing in its skull, repeatedly. Natasha stays back, watching and trying to get used to the sight of what used to be a normal human being. She keeps her gun aimed, though, never taking her eyes off it.

Its head rolls off, staring up at the sky with dull, blank eyes.

"This is the first one we've had up here; they never come this far up the mountain," Dale tells them, shock evident on his face.

Snap

They all still, quieting down and turning towards the direction the sound came from. Natasha aims her gone once more; until she spots the beginnings of a crossbow and for a second her mind wanders. Clint… No, it's not him. The man fully comes out of the woods, covered in dirt and grime.

"Son of a bitch! That's my deer! Look at it. All gnawed on by this... filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!"

"Calm down, son."

Natasha watches the man intently, he's rugged and dangerous looking. If this is Daryl Dixon they're in for a whole lot of problems on their hands. But of course, it's nothing she can't easily handle.

The man makes his way back to the camp, eying her and Rick for a moment, not recognizing their faces.

"Merle! Merle, I got us some squirrel."

"Daryl, hold on a second. Gotta talk to you," Shane calls him over, his face covered with dread.

"'Bout what?"

"'Bout Merle, there was a problem in Atlanta."

"He dead?" He stops moving, glancing at the others behind him before looking back at Shane.

"Not sure."

Natasha notices his facial muscles twitch and his fingers flex. He pushes out his chest and walks closer to Shane, "He either is or he ain't."

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. Your brother was a danger to us all." Rick walks up to Daryl calm and steady.

"Who are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," Daryl spits his name out like dirt. "You got something you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked up to a piece of metal. He's still there."

Daryl turns away, rubbing a hand at his eye. His voice is shaky, "Let me properly process this, you handcuffed my brother to a roof and left him there?"

Daryl throws the string of squirrels' and runs in to tackle Rick. Shane reacts before he can reach him and slams himself into the other man stomach. Natasha moves swiftly after him, grabbing onto Daryl's left arm and twisting it behind his back. Her foot is holding down his lower back and her other hand is gripped tight on his neck, squeezing the pressure points in warning.

Daryl struggles in her hold, trying to break himself loose. His breathing is shaky and comes out in short, uneven huffs.

"This is fucking an illegal, "He growls into the dirt and tries to shake loose one more.

"Yeah, too bad I'm not a cop. Complain to someone else," Natasha tells him; her voice is as steady as ever. "Now I'm going to loosen my hold but if you try anything like that again, I'll do worse."

He grunts but doesn't try anything, so Natasha lets him lift up his head to meet Ricks.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic; do you think you can manage that?"

He doesn't answer.

"Do you think we can manage that?" He asks again, this time more persistent.

Rick meets Natasha's eyes, giving a slight nod of his head to let Daryl go. Daryl rolls over up right, glaring at the two.

"What I did was not on a whim; your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Ricks fault," T-Dog, who had been standing not too far away tells him. There is a regretful look on his face. "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?"

"Well, I dropped it down a drain."

Daryl scoffs and takes a few more uneven breaths before getting up and glaring at the man. "If this is supposed to make me feel better it don't."

"Maybe this will. I chained the door to the roof, so the Geeks couldn't get at him. With a pad lock."

"That's got to count for somethin'."

Daryl wipes at his eye again, most likely trying to keep from crying as far as Natasha can tell. "Hell with all of y'all! Tell me where is, so I can go get him."

"He'll show you, isn't that right?" It's Lori who speaks, over by the R.V., looking directly at Rick. Her face blank.

Rick looks around, at the others. "I'm going back."

Lori leaves with a tired look on her face.

It's quiet for a while and everyone disbands back into the task they were doing before. Natasha stays back, keeping an eye on Daryl. She had already changed into her SHEILD uniform and gathered her weapons. Her guns are reloaded and place in their rightful spots, she's still getting a few odd looks over her out fit.

Rick walks up from where his tent is, to join everyone else. Shane's is right behind him.

"Could you just tell me why: why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey, choose your words more carefully," Daryl warns his crossbow in hands.

"Oh no, I did. Douche bag's what I meant." Bitterly he continues," Merle Dixon: the guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me: I can't let a man die of thirst, me: thirst, and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap, that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being."

Natasha raises a brow, this man is different. Even in a world filled with mindless, flesh-eating zombies, he'd still risk it all to save one man. Extraordinary, she can't help but wonder if there is more to it.

"So, you and Daryl, that's your big plan?" Lori asks, looking at her husband with disbelief.

Rick turns to look at Glenn, pointedly, who in returns groans, "Oh, come on."

"You know the way. You've been there before, in and out no problems. You said so yourself. It's not fair for me to asks, I know that. But I feel a lot better with you along, I know she would too."

"Oh yeah, that's just great. Risk three men."

"Four," IT comes from T-Dog.

"My day just gets better and better." Daryl huffs as he works on his arrows.

"You see anybody else here stepping up, to save your brother's cracker ass?"

Any other time, Natasha might have laughed. His attitude reminds her of Fury when he was in a better mood.

"Why you?"

"You wouldn't even begin to understand. You don't speak my language."

"That's four."

"That's not just four; you're putting every single person here at risk. Just know that Rick. We need every able body here."

"Seems like what you need to me is more guns."

"That's right." Glenn says, "Guns."

"What guns?"

Rick list off all the guns he had (or had). "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left I dropped the back in Atlanta when I got swarmed, they're just sittin' there on the street waiting to be picked up."

"Ammo?" Shane asks. It comes out sounding slightly desperate.

"Seven hundred grams."

"You just got here, you're gonna turn around and leave?" Lori asks bewildered at the mere thought.

"I-I don't want you to go." Rick and Lori's son, Carl, tell him.

"To hell with the guns, Shane is right: Merle Dixon? He's not worth your lives, even with guns thrown in."

Rick walks over to her, "Tell me. Make me understand."

"I owe a debt, to a man I met and his little boy." She gives him a look. "Lori, if they hadn't taken me in, I would have died. It's because of them I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta. They're walking into the same trap I did if I don't warn them."

"What's stopping you?"

"The walkie-talkie in the bag I dropped. He's got the other one."

"So use the CB." Andrea tells him.

"They're crap," Shane explains.

"I have to get that talkie," He whispers to his wife before walking over to his boy.

"Okay?" He asks.

Carl nods his head.

"Well, I'm going too."

They look over at Natasha, surprised. "That's not necessary."

"Yes it is, you're low on guns, I have two and I know the area well. I'll be twice the man power."

"Really, you don't have to. We can manage." Rick tells her; both he and Shane are eyeing her carefully.

"Please, you're not the only one who owes a debt, Rick Grimes." She tells him with a grim smile. "I'll be going; I don't do well with sitting around anyway. Besides, my skill assets might just come in handy."

Natasha gets into the back of the truck with Glenn and Daryl; she stands in a corner where she can see all of them clearly. She fastens the bracelets on her wrist, checking them over.

"Hey, what are those things?" Glenn asks from up in the front. Daryl looks over too.

"They discharge high amounts of electricity. They can take out and stun even the strongest person; I've never met someone who can withstand them. It's a lot of pain to bear. You're in agony for hours."

"Oh..." He trails off, his eyes wide and slightly put off. "Do they work on Walkers?"

"I don't know, haven't tried. Let's hope so though."

Daryl honks the horn, "Come on, let's go."

They rode in relative silence for a while. The air was tense in the truck.

"He better be okay, that's my only word on the matter," Daryl warns T-Dog.

"I told you, the Geeks can't get at him. The only thing that's gonna get through that door is us."

The truck to a slow stop, "We walk from here."

They get into the building with relative ease, care for any walkers. Daryl shoots the ones that get in their way with ease. When they get to the roof all that's left is a bloody mess, tools are knocked over everywhere and splats of blood surrounding a sawed off hand below a dangling handcuff. . .

"No! No!" Daryl cries out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it this far! How about dropping a review? Crush my soul, boost my ego, tell me your theories and interpretations. my stories and I live off your feed back. XO.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha spends the day looking for a man without a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, five years really shows you how much your writing style changes. This chapter isn't so bad actually. I guess at some point I finally decided on a tense.

Tensions are high and emotions are running wild (mostly on Daryl's part) when they get there. When they reach the top of the roof they're greeted only by blood splatters, dangling handcuffs, and a lone hand with no Merle Dixon is in sight. It's quiet for a moment before Daryl whips around and aims his crossbow at T-Dog, grunting as he does this. Natasha's ready for it, her gun is already out and trained right between his Daryl's eyes. Rick is not too far behind. Daryl is sending a death stare at T-Dog but is fully aware of the two guns currently trained on his head.

"I won't hesitate and I'm pretty sure she won't either," Rick warns. "I don't care if every Walker in the city hears it."

Daryl is torn, his face clearly showing it. He looks torn between wanting to cry or yell and fight. He puts down the crossbow and relaxes his grip, looking down at the ground.

"You gotta, uh, a do-rag or somethin'?" T-Dog hands him an old bandana. "I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuff." He says to them, picking up the hand by a finger and examining it.

Natasha walks over, looking over all the blood. She already knows that it was an arterial bleed and that he would need to stop to bleeding quickly. He would either have to wrap it up tight or cauterize it. "He can't be that far, he has to take care of his wound before he can actually get anywhere. He's probably still in the building."

Daryl takes the dark blue bandana, setting the severed hand onto it and wrapping it up before placing it in Glenn's backpack.

"He must've used a tunicate or his belt. If he didn't he would've lost more blood."

The group follows him into the building from another door, the only way Merle could have gotten off the roof without falling to his death.

"Merle! You in here?" They go down stairs only to stumble upon two bodies of walkers. "He had enough in him to take out these two sons of bitches. One handed."

"With the blood loss and exposure combined, it's impressive but that doesn't really mean anything. I'm surprised we haven't found him kneeled over dead yet." Not many people would even be able to make it down the stairs with all that pain. "He would have had a better chance if he had just broken his hand… Or cut off his thumb."

Daryl gives her a dirty look; she just lifts a brow at him.

"Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails."

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is."

"Men like that are usually the reckless ones," Natasha says as she begins to follow the blood trail. "I've had the displeasure of knowing more than a few people like that."

"Merle!" Daryl calls out again.

"We're not alone here," Rick warns him. "Remember?"

"Screw that. He could be bleedin' out, you said so yourself."

There are several lit flames on the stove in the kitchen, surrounded by dried up blood and burnt, melted skin.

"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn asks.

"Skin..." Rick and Natasha tell him in unison.

"He used the stove to cauterize it the stump, the sheer amount of pain could have easily knocked him out, depending on his size and health," Natasha tells them, looking over the kitchen, maybe it's a lab actually. There's not much to see.

"Told you he was tough," Daryl says like an insistent child (or little brother in this case). "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

"Don't take that out of faith. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah? Didn't stop him from bustin' out of this death trap," They follow Daryl over to the broken window.

"He left the building? Why the hell would he do that?" Glenn asks astonished.

"Why wouldn't he? He's out there alone as far as he knows." Daryl tells him.

"He's probably still in fight or flight mode. The adrenaline is most likely the only thing that's keeping him going, no telling how far he's already gotten because of it." Natasha looks out the window; only thing out there is some stairs and a bloody towel.

"He has to do what he's gotta do. Survivin' on his own."

"You call that surviving? Just wondering out in the streets, maybe passing out?" T-Dog shakes his head. "What are his odds out there?"

"It's no worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks." Daryl's voice rises. "You're not so worried by some dumb dead bastard."

"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards?" Rick retorts. "Different story?"

"If you take a tally, do what you want. I'm gonna go get him."

"Daryl, wait!" Rick pushed him back.

"Get your hands off me! You can't stop me!"

"I don't blame you, he's family. I get that. I went through hell to find mine." He tells him meeting his eye. "I know exactly how you feel. He can't get far with that injury; we can help you check a few blocks around - but only if we keep a level head."

"I can do that."

"Rick is right," Natasha announces. "We need to be rational and careful about this. We can't really afford one wrong move on our part."

"Only if we get those guns first. I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions."

The rest of them all silently agree.

Glenn is smart, she honestly would have never guessed he be able to plan something out like this. Most of the people she had worked with had to be trained properly to come up with a strategic plan like this, mostly because people went in hot headed and over confident. He didn't seem the type who worked with any kind of law. Maybe something that involved constantly moving about.

"You're not doing this alone," Rick tells Glenn, not wanting to risk another life.

"I think it's a bad idea and I don't even like you much."

"It's a good idea, okay. If you just hear me out," Glenn looks at Rick, dead set on his plan. "If we go out there in a group we're slow. Drawing attention. If I'm alone, I can move fast. Look." He points to the marker drawn a map on the floor. "That's the tank, five blocks from where we are now. That's the bag of guns. Here's the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That's where Daryl and I will go."

"Why me?"

"Your crossbow is quieter than his gun. While Daryl waits here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag."

"You got us elsewhere?" Rick asks.

"You, T-Dog and Natasha, right. You'll be in this alley here."

"Two blocks away, why?"

"I might not be able to come back the same way. Walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I won't go back to Daryl. I'll go forward instead, all the way around to that alley where you guys are. Whichever direction I go, I got you in both places to cover me. Afterwards, we'll all meet back here."

"I still don't like the idea of you being out there on streets alone, you need someone right behind you," Natasha warns, it's a good plan but if he gets trapped before he can reach anyone he won't have anyone to hold back the walkers. "I think I should go with you, I was a field agent, so I'm light on my feet and I know the streets like the back of my hand. I don't need to use my gun; I can handle any kind of blade pretty well."

Glenn thinks it over for a moment, his eyes looking over the make shift map as he calculated the idea. "Yeah, that might work. But are you sure you know the streets and alleys? You did say you weren't from around here."

"I was on assignment here for nearly six months, my handler made sure I knew my surroundings. It would be idiotic to go into unknown territories. Trust me, I can keep up."

"All right, new plan, Natasha will come with me and Daryl and then we'll be back up with you guys."

"Hey kid, what did you do before all this?"

"Delivered pizza. Why?"

She can almost hear Clint laugh in the back of her head. He would have liked this kid.

They make it down the stairs nice and quiet, careful of their movements. Natasha had a nice, long blade in her hand that Daryl had stashed on his person. It was a good old hunting knife, used for gutting animals. It would work perfectly in this situation.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman."

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever."

"Ready?" Glenn asks, looking back at Natasha.

"Go."

She follows after him swiftly and quietly, being careful to make sure none of the Walkers are close. They duck behind the abandoned cars to avoid being seen.

"Quickly," Natasha hisses when they reach the tank, they're both completely out in the open.

Glenn grabs the bag about to keep going before he turns back and gets the brown sheriff hat. His eyes widen. "Natasha-"

Natasha swings around at the sound of a low gurgling growl, "Go, now!" She steps forward, pushing the hunting knife up through the bottom of the Walkers chin.

"Ayudame!" A young, male voice calls out in Spanish.

Natasha goes after Glenn again, stabbing another two Geeks through the eye sockets who get too close.

"Ayudame!" Help me, the boy's voice yells again.

They get back to the alley way only to see Daryl being beaten up on the ground by another two men. They turn around.

"That's it. That's the bag, vato."

Natasha yanks the bag from Glenn's hand, pulling the strap of her shoulder.

"Hey, give that here!" The man doesn't get the chance to say more, Natasha has already side swiped him, sending him tumbling to the ground. The other one runs over to them, pushing the bat into Natasha's stomach, sending her to the ground out of breath. Glenn is also on the ground, trying to fight off the two men who are almost twice his size to keep them from getting to the bag behind Natasha.

The bald man screams, grabbing at his backside. A car engine rumbles as it nears them, "Get off me! Get off me!"

Natasha gets up, sending a foot flying into the back of one of the men. He falls out onto the side walk, still gripping his bottom. She can't move as fast, the wind is knocked out of her and she's pretty sure that a few of her ribs are badly bruised.

"Daryl! Daryl!" Glenn calls out as he's being pushed into the car that just pulled up. "Natasha!"

Daryl runs up to the fence gate, slamming his hand on his. "Come back here, you sons of bitches!"

He slams the gate shut to keep the approaching walkers out.

"Whoa, whoa. Stop it." Rick pushes Daryl off the boy.

"I'm gonna kick your nuts up in your throat!"

T-Dog is by Natasha's side holding the Latino boy in a firm grip. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I just got winded."

"They took Glenn," Daryl yells. "Him and his little bastard friends! I'm gonna stomp your ass!

"Guys, we're cut off!" T-Dog points to the gate, he's right, the walkers are desperately banging against it trying to get in.

"Get to the lab!"

They make it back up as easy as they came down just with a little more pain on Natasha side.

"Those men you were with, we need to know where they went."

"I ain't telling you nothing." The boy says, wiping away some the dried blood from his lip.

"Jesus, man." T-Dog groans. "What the hell happened back there?"

"I told you, this little turd and his douche bag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me."

"You're the one who jumped me, puto, screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn. Could have taken Merle too."

"Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog Merle."

Daryl tries to take a swing at the boy only to be held back by Rick. "Damn it, Daryl. Back off."

Natasha sighs from annoyance and rolls her eyes. She's had enough of this; she'll just pull a page out of Clint's book. "Alright kid, you're going to tell us what you know or I'm going to let my friend here..." She finishes the rest in Spanish.

"Comprende?"

The young boy looks at her with wide, fearful eyes. He still shakes his head in disbelief, all at the same time pushing his body back into the chair, trying to get as far as possible away from her.

"No way, you wouldn't do that."

"What'd you say?" T-Dog asks her, eying them both closely.

Natasha just shakes her head, "Nothing important."

She grabs Daryl's arm, sending him a look towards Glenn's bag. He gets the gist.

"Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" He takes out his brother's decapitated hand, unwrapping from its bindings and throwing it into the boy's lap.

The boy screams and backs into the wall. Daryl grabs him by his neck, "Start with the feet this time."

"The men you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them; see if we can work something out." Rick says to the boy after pulling Daryl off of him, again.

"Fine," He reluctantly agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it this far! How about dropping a review? Crush my soul, boost my ego, tell me your theories and interpretations. my stories and I live off your feed back. XO.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and the trip to the old folks home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, cringe. 2012 was rough on my writing. Enjoy.

Sure you're up for this?" Rick asks.

"Yeah," T-Dog answers readying his rifle and heading to his post.

"One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know," Daryl threatens the kid.

"G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove up your. Just so you know," He retorts and Natasha has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Even in a different universe, she can't seem to escape the Clint and Stark like banter.

"G?" Rick questions.

"Guillermo. He's the man here."

"Okay then," Rick cocks his gun. "Let's go see Guillermo."

They make their way to the doors of what looks to be a rundown stone warehouse. It's a bit difficult to tell from the outside. Everything surrounding them is either in ruins or had over grown shrubs and plants blocking their full view.

The doors open slowly, letting sunlight shine into the darkened place, illuminating the first figure that steps out.

"You okay, little man?" The man, presumably Guillermo, asks.

"They're gonna cut off my feet, Carnal."

The man raises a brow, "Cops do that?"

"Not him." He turns back, pointing at Daryl. "This redneck puto here and the red head. He cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed t to me."

"Shut up." Daryl barks.

"Hey, that's that vato right there, homes." Another man comes out, limping and clutching at his backside with a gun in his other hand. It's the same man from back at the alley "He shot me in the ass with an arrow."

"Chill man, chill." Guillermo waves the other man back. "This true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion," Rick tells him but the air is still tense. They don't know what these people are capable of.

"That hillbilly jumps Felipe's little cousin, beat on him, threatens to cut off his feet, Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment. Mistakes were made on both sides."

"Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related." Guillermo questions Rick.

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him." Rick says looking back towards the doors.

"You got my brother in there?" Daryl asks walking forward, his bow as ready as ever.

"Sorry, we're fresh out of white boys. But I've got Asian you interested?" Guillermo sounds like he's asking for a trade. Natasha narrows her eyes.

"I've have one of yours, you have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me." This guy is sure pushing his luck. If Natasha had been on her own she would have already infiltrated the building and found Glenn, she didn't tend to like working in groups. Things tended to get messy.

"G, come on, man," Miguel says in disbelief but it comes out sounding more like a question.

"My people got attacked. Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering."

"Maybe if your people knew by now to not cause such a ruckus we wouldn't have had to take care of them."

Guillermo ignores her, "More to the point, where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns?"

"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken."

Guillermo shakes his head, "I don't think so."

"About it being yours. It's my bag of guns." Rick tells him.

"The bag was on the street. Anybody could around and say it was theirs. What's going to stop me from letting my people unload on you right here and now?"

"You could do that." Rick looks up in the direction T-dog is to let him see what he has planned. T-Dog has his gun aimed for Guillermo's head. "Or not."

Guillermo smirks, "Oye."

They look up towards the roof. Glenn is being led towards the edge by another two men with a bag over his head. Threatening to let him fall.

"I see two options, you come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, and everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded; we'll see which side spills more blood.

They go back to their hideout with heavy heads.

"Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table. You wanna risk all that for that kid?" Daryl asks not seeing a way for them to keep both the guns and get Glenn back. Or at least doesn't want to.

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree. But you think that that vato across the way is just going to hand him over?"

"I think he's all talk and no walk," Natasha says getting up from her seat to meet Rick's eye. "But these are desperate times; we can't be too sure, can we?"

"You callin' G a liar?"

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl hollers at Miguel before smacking him across the head. "You want to hold onto your teeth?"

"Question is, do you trust that man's word?"

Daryl cuts him off, "No, the question is what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?"

Rick finishes loading his gun and sets it in his holster before looking back at Daryl. "What life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hands the gun over?" Daryl asks.

"I didn't say that. There's nothing keeping you three here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog inquiries rubbing his head like he has a headache.

"You're not going alone. What would you do if you got stuck somewhere again?" Natasha jokes as she makes sure her guns have enough rounds.

They go back, Miguel in front with the gag over his mouth and a gun pointed at his back. The warehouse is dark and crowded with men and car gear.

"I see my guns, but they're not all in the bag." G stares down at Rick.

"That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that."

"Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese."It's the same one as before, arrow in the ass man. "All right? Unload on their, asses' man."

Natasha studies the men in the room carefully, there is sweat running down their brows and not just from the heat. Some of them are antsy, their fingers gripping their guns too tightly and the rest just shaking. Most of the men in the room are darting their eyes nervously around the room. Natasha mentally shakes her head. These are no gang bangers, just some big men trying to put on the illusion that they are. It's clever but not good enough for her not to notice.

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation."

"You have your man, I want mine." Rick pushes the boy forward.

"I'm gonna chop up you boy. Feed him to my dogs. They're the evilest nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw." Natasha rolls her eyes, wondering if he knew how thick he was laying it on. "I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. Are you deaf?"

"My hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded, we're here." Rick cocks his gun and so do the rest of the men in the room. It's time to say something before it gets ugly.

"They're bluffing."

Rick doesn't take his eyes of their leader but he does incline his head slightly towards her. "What?"

The leader, Guillermo, tightens his hands into a fist and his face hardens as he throws Natasha a quick look. Before Natasha can say anything else, a small old woman comes out from the back of the room.

"Felipe! Felipe!"

"Abuela, go back with the others-now," Felipe demands turning his head to her.

"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" Daryl shouts.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay?" G tells the woman in a much gentler tone. "This is not the place to be right now."

"Mr. Gilbert," She cries. "Is having trouble breathing. He needs his asthma stuff."

"Felipe, go take care of it, okay? And take your grandmother with you!"

"Who are those people?" The old woman asks point at them as she marches towards Rick. "Don't you take him."

"Ma'am?"

"Felipe's a good boy. He has his trouble but he pulls himself together. We need him here." She begs.

"Ma'ma, I'm not here to arrest your grandson."

"Then what do you want him for?"

"He's..."Ricks hesitates in order to come up with an answer."Helping us find a missing person. A fella named Glenn."

"The Asian boy?" She smiles kindly and grabs onto Rick's arm, leading him out of the room. "He's with Mr. Gilbert."

They follow her through the building and up the ways until they reach a cafeteria like room. A small group is huddled on all sides of an elderly man sitting in a chair, Glenn being one of them.

"What the hell is this?"

"An asthma attack," Glenn answers Rick not even bothering to look at him at first.  
Couldn't get his breath all of the sudden."

"I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man," T-Dog tells him dumbstruck.

Three small dogs bark from a little dog bed in the corner. Rick let outs a frustrated sigh and turns to G. "Could I have a word with you?" He backs him away from the others. "You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met. We walked in there ready to kill every last one of you."

"Well, I'm glad it didn't go down that way."

"If it had, that blood would be on my hands," Rick growls out.

"Mine too. We'd have fought back. Wouldn't be the first time we've had to. Protect the food, the medicine that's left of it."

They leave the old folks home with fewer guns than they came in with. Daryl is complaining about giving them away and things only seem to get worse. The group stops in their tracks and stare in mild shock. The van was gone.

"Oh my God."

"Where's the hell's our van?"

"We left it right there. Who would take it? Glenn asks flabbergasted.

"Merle."

Daryl sighs and wipes the sweat from his brow. "He's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp."

"Well, we better start walking." Natasha starts heading towards the direction they came from originally. "We gotta beat the sun, it'll be dark soon."

Glenn jogs up to her side and mutters. "Maybe we'll find Merle crashed in a ditch."

"Hey, don't you be talking 'bout my brother!"

"You should learn to be quieter, Dixon. It might come in hand in the near future."

Sweat dripped down their face as they jogged up the incline to camp. It was near the dark, the sun was in its last few minutes of setting. There was only the sound of their feet hitting the road, slightly panting from running out of breath, and the whisper of the wind rustling the small bushes and trees.

"How far do we have left to go?" Glenn asked between breaths.

"We should be there in a couple minutes as long as we keep at this pace." Rick pushed out.

It was the high pitched scream that broke the silence; it sent a chill up their spines. Then there were more screams, calling for help and telling people to run. Gun shots drowned out the screams before the sound started to blend together. It rang through their ears like a haunting melody.

"Help!"

"Oh my God." Another gunshot.

They ran at full speed the tiredness they had felt before seemed to melt away only to be replaced by the rushing of adrenaline.

"Go! Go!" T-Dog yelled urging them to move faster.

"Get to the R.V.! Go!"

"Get up! Go, now!"

The camp was a war zone.

Rick ran after his family, shooting off rounds to keep the Walkers away. Natasha shot at the Walker making a bee line towards Andrea. The other woman hadn't even noticed just stayed crouched over on the ground. Daryl's rifle fired off right next to her ear, another Walker fell to the ground only a few feet away. Natasha sends her foot flying into another Walkers stomach, knocking it over, to keep it from getting to close. She hears another growl behind her and spins around, sending a lone bullet in the head of another one. They were everywhere, chasing and clawing at people until they screamed loud enough and crumpled to the floor. It was madness.

"Natasha, to your left!"

Natasha turns quickly before sending another bullet into the skull of a young looking female walker.

"Baby! Carl!"

"Dad!" Rick's boy came flying into his arms like a rocket. His tear-streaked face shined in the moonlight and his sobs were drowned out before anyone can hear them.

"Amy!" Andrea wailes shaking the body of her fallen sister. Her sobs grew louder until her voice was lost and she just broke down dry sobbing.

There was nothing they do. She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it this far! How about dropping a review? Crush my soul, boost my ego, tell me your theories and interpretations. my stories and I live off your feed back. XO.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading out on the road, Natasha gets the bigger picture of what's left of these people's world and who they are.

Natasha watches as they dragged the bodies into the fire pit and into the shallow graves, that Jim had apparently dug the day before. Something was different about this scene, this moment. She had seen death so many times before, the smell of decaying bodies was nothing new to her and blood splattered across the ground wasn't an odd sight. Yet somehow, something was different here.

She looked over to Andrea, who was still sitting next to the dead body of her sister. Natasha was sure that she hadn't moved all night. She felt pity for the woman.

"Are you alright?" Dale asks waking up beside her with his hat in his hands.

"Yes," She tells him, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Daryl slam a pix axe through a man's head. He does it like it's a common occurrence; he doesn't even seem fazed by it.

Yes, there was definitely something wrong here.

The smell of burning flesh stings her nose and everyone else's. But she still goes over to help carry the body of a heavier Walker into the pit; it was the one she shot to keep it from getting Carol and her little girl. Glenn mutters quick thanks before walking back to T-Dog; he seems to still be in shock. He pauses over the body of a girl; she had been part of the group and no older than twenty-five. Glenn lets out a heavy sigh before grabbing her legs.

When he's done he freezes. He watches Morales and Daryl as they began to drag a body of a man towards the fire pit with anger and disbelief.

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Morales barely spares him a glance. "This is for geeks. Our people go over there."

"What's the difference?" Daryl grunts. "They're all infected."

"Our people go in that row over there." Glenn insists. "We don't burn them! We bury them."

Daryl begrudgingly dragged the body to the other side. "Reap what you sow."

"Shut up, man!"

Natasha makes her way over to Carol and Lori who are both helping keep look out. Lori looks her up and down, "Are you alright? I didn't get the chance to ask awhile ago."

"Yes, thank you. I've noticed the children are not around."

"They're fine, just a little shook up from last night." Lori looks as if she's defeated and not knowing what she should do. She goes to say more but stops and lets out a shaky breath. "I need to go check on them."

She gets up as if to go around but stops at the commotion.

"He's bit! Jim's bit." Jacqui yells backing away from him.

Jim holds out his hands. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Show it to us," Daryl demands as he walks up to the panicky man with a pix axe over his shoulder.

Jim turns back to grab a shovel from the ground. He holds is defensively across his chest.

"Easy, Jim." Shane tries to get closer but Jim only backs away and raises the shovel higher.

"Grab him!" T-Dog does just as Daryl says. He pins Jim's arms behind his back forcing him to drop the shovel. "I'm okay. Really, I'm okay."

Daryl pulls up the bloody shirt to reveal the fresh bite. It's a haunting realization, something the group didn't want to believe as true. Jim is breathing heavily, his words getting slower with each breath. The others can only stare.

"I say we put a pix axe in his head and the dead girls and we can be done with it." Daryl looks at Jim and back at them, obviously thinking that the situation should have already been dealt with. No conversation needed.

"Is that what you'd want if it was you?"

"Yeah, and I thank you while you did it."

Dale shakes his head, "I hate to say it-I never thought I would but maybe Daryl's right."

"Jim's not a monster, Dale," Rick disagrees with the older man. "Or some rabid dog."

"I'm not suggesting-"

"He's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for Walkers, or them to be." Daryl hisses.

"What if we can get him help?" Rick suggests. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell." Shane says.

"What if the CDC is still up and running?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there."

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the CDC at all cost, wouldn't they?" Rick tries to convince them. "I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection-"

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? Now if they exist they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

"That's one hundred miles in the opposite direction," Lori tells him.

"That's right. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me, if that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

"The military was on the front lines of this thing. They got over run we've all seen that. The CDC is our best choice and Jim's only chance. Natasha, you worked in the government, what would be our best option?"

"The CDC would honestly be a lot safer than Fort Benning. It was built to have the ability to keep anything they didn't want in out. You would need a grenade to even be able to break the windows." Natasha speaks up after much consideration.

"You go looking for aspirin; do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!" Daryl runs at Jim, swinging the pix axe up in order to hit him.

"Hey, hey!" Rick points his pistol at the back of Daryl's head. A familiar scene plays out in the back of her head, a sense of déjà vu overcoming her.

"We don't kill the living."

"That's funny coming from a man who just pointed a gun to my head."

"Hey!"A hushed whisper calls from behind her.

Natasha turns back to see nothing, there's no one but a few cars. She gets up from her post. She starts to look into the back seat of one of them but the voice calls out, grabbing her attention again. 

"Over here!"

Natasha looks back at the car in the very front. Rick's boy and Carol's daughter are sitting in the backseat with the windows rolled down.

"He's really bit isn't he?" Carl looks down at the ground trying to keep them from seeing his face.

Natasha purses her lips, not sure if she should be the one telling them about it. "He is but we're going to go get him help."

Sophia perks up, "Really?"

Natasha nods, "Yes, so no need to fret."

A gunshot rings through the air.

Both Sophia and Carl look at her fearfully, their eyes searching for answers. Carl is the first to figure it out. "Amy's gone."

It's a long day for everyone. They all go to the newly-dug graves and watch as they lower the bodies in. The kids and several of the adults cry, a lot of what had happened is finally fully sinking in. It's nearly evening when they actually all finally come to an agreement. Rick and Shane come back up from the woods and join them.

"I've been thinking about Rick's plan." Shane starts. "Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time, I trust his instincts. The most important thing is that we need to stay together. So those of you that agree we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?"

Morning seems to come too quick, even for Natasha who had been trained rise early. Everything is packed and the cars are all almost ready to go. Sophia walks up to her slowly, still wiping the sleep out of her eye. "Natasha, why do we have to wake up so early?"

"So that we can beat the sun," Sophia looks up at her confused. "I mean so that we can get to the CDC while it's still light out."

"Everybody listen up," Shane calls out to get their attention. "Those of you with CBs, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don't have a CB, can't get a signal or anything at all honk your horn once."

"Mama, can Natasha ride with us?" Sophia runs up to her mother wrapping her arms around hers with a hopeful look on her face.

Carol looks over at Natasha and then back at her daughter, "There's no room, Sophia. The car is full."

"Oh..."She smiles at Natasha."Well, you can ride with us next time!"

"Alright, if that's what you want."

"Red, you're riding with me." Shane picks up one last bad and shoves it into the back of his jeep. "Let's go." Red, that annoying old name again.

It quiet for the most part in the beginning of their journey. Natasha kept her eyes peeled for any signs of trouble or anything that could possibly be useful to them. To be honest it looked like a normal day if Natasha had ended up here in that explosion she'd probably have no idea what had happened.

"You- you worked in the government, right?" Shane blurted out as they drove down the long road behind the others. "Do you honestly think we have a chance at the CDC? Or is that all just one big allusion?"

Natasha paused, pondering over the question. In her world yes, that CDC would be protected no matter what. No matter the cost. When Loki attacked New York they ended up sending over a hundred SHIELD agents just in case. They wanted no chance of anything ever coming out of that building. If anything ever did it would be disastrous.

"The CDC holds some of the world's most powerful vaccines and deadliest diseases. The government would do more than their best to keep anything from ever happening to that building. The CDC has the power to either save us or kill us. Let's hope it's the former." Natasha explains. "You have to go through seven levels of clearance, there's no easy way of getting in."

"What did you do exactly, anyway?"

"The same thing you do-or did, I just handled more sensitive matters, like I said before. In ways that might not be deemed ethical by some. You could say that I have a special skill set and qualifications."

"Really now? Do you have some secret deadly weapon, too?" Shane jokes and props up his arm on the back of the seat.

"Well, I have been told that I'm good with my legs."

Shane shook his head and laughed as he looked her over. "I bet you are, Red."

A loud honk from up ahead put an end to their conversation and slowly all the cars began to come to a halt. They got out of the jeep with caution, not sure of what had happened. Natasha could see Dale and Glenn getting out of the RV and heading for the front of it, where the engine was. Some of the others slowly piled out of their vehicles.

"Is everything alright?" Lori asked from the passenger side leaning out the window to get a better view.

"Yeah, don't worry. The radiator hose just blew out." Rick used his hat to help clear away some of the smoke from the engine, it hissed and rattled like a dying car.

"I told you we'd never get far on that hose. I need the one from the cube van." Dale tells Rick.

"Can you jury-rig it?"

Dale shakes his head no, "That's all it's been so far. It's more duct tape than hose and I'm out of duct tape."

"I see something up ahead," Shane looks through the binoculars again. "Gas station if we're lucky."

"How far down-" Before Natasha can finish Jacqui comes speeding out of the RV panicked and rushed.

"Y'all, Jim—it's bad. I don't think he can take anymore."

"Hey, Rick, you want to hold down the fort? I'll drive ahead; see what I can bring back?" Rick gives Shane a nod of approval before heading into the RV.

"Yeah, I'll come along too and back you up." T-Dog volunteers.

Natasha goes to keep looking out at the Jeep but a familiar voice draws her attention again. "Hey, Natasha!"

She looks over at Rick and Lori's car, Carl and Sophia are both hanging out a shared window. She walks up to them, leaning on the side of the car.

"Natasha, did something happen again?" Sophia asks looking up at her. Natasha sees the old rag-doll she clutching desperately onto. Probably out of fear or anxiety.

"Nothing we can't handle. It's just some car trouble," Carl gives her an unconvinced look. "I swear."

"Can-can we get out?" Sophia asks rubbing the sweat off her forehead. "It's hot in here."

"I don't see why not. We're probably not going to be back on the road for a while." Natasha barely has time to finish before Sophia and Carl are both sliding out of the backseat.

"Hurry up, Sophia!" Carl's already halfway down the RV waving for Sophia to hurry. "You too, Natasha."

Sophia stays at Natasha's side, her hand slowly and hesitantly wrapping around her own. Sophia smiles up at her as she starts pulling her along to catch up with Carl. "Natasha, did you always live in New York before coming to here?"

The small girl catches Natasha somewhat off guard. She hadn't really been expecting to be asked that. "No, I was born in Russia."

Sophia looks at her with large curious eyes. "Does your family still live there?"

Natasha shakes her head slowly, looking straight ahead. Carl is already gone; she can hear is voice near the front. "My family died when I was a child."

"Sorry..." Sophia's hand loosens slightly and she keeps her head down with her shoulders hunched. "My dad's dead, too. He died that night you came back from the city."

Natasha isn't really sure what to say. Especially to a young girl, Sophia could be no older than twelve.

"Natasha, can I tell you something?" Her voice is almost a whisper and she looks around to make sure nobody is close enough to hear. "Is it bad that I'm glad he's gone? I mean he was just really mean to my mama all the time. He made her sad all the time."

Natasha remembered seeing Sophia's father, Ed; even if they had only met briefly he had left a strong impression of himself. He seemed to have that same bitter look on his face that night she arrived and the next day when they left. She suspected what he was; Natasha saw the way Carol seemed to flinch around him and the way she kept her daughter from getting too close. It wasn't hard to see. And the day after they came back, when they were taking care of the bodies, Carol looked as if she had temporarily lost her sanity when she continuously slammed the pix-axe through his head. She knew for sure then.

"No, it's not bad." She keeps her voice low and holds just a little tighter onto the girl's hand without really meaning to. "It's okay to feel that way."

Sophia looks back up at her. Her eyes are wide and she appears like she's on the verge of crying. "Promise?"

Natasha can feel her chest tighten almost unnaturally. "I promise."

"Sophia, there you are." Carol meets them around the RV with Carl by her side looking let down. She looks up at Natasha with a timid smile. "Sophia, honey, do you want some water?"

Just like the child she is, she bounces right back to the perky self she was before just like any child would. "Yes, please."

Carol leads them back to the car. Natasha can hear Carl mutter, "They just don't want us to know what's happening."

Natasha walks up front to meet the others. "What's going on?"

"Jim wants to be left here."

"Leaving him, I don't think I could live with that." Shane shakes his head.

"It's not your call, either one of you."

They end up leaving Jim there that day, under a shady tree up on a slight hill. Their departure is filled with bittersweet goodbyes and another realization, anyone can die. Now they're just another man weaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hows it, guys? Tell me your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to the CDC but all is not what it seems to be.

The smell was more than over whelming when they arrived at the CDC. Decaying bodies of Walkers and people littered the grown all around them, flies hovering everywhere. Even for Natasha, this was nearly too much. She could hear the children whimper slightly as the horrid smell hit their noses.

"Stay quiet. Let's go." Whispered Rick from the front of the group.

They walked with their noses and mouth covered, not wanting to breathe in the toxic air. Glenn looked as if he was about to either pass out or vomit; most likely both. Even Natasha's eyes burned and threatened to water.

"Okay, keep moving. Stay together." Rick rattles at the metal shutter doors when they get up there, it's a new edition. They didn't have those before.

"Nothing?" Shane asks as he begins pounding on the door.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog says in disbelief.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick shoots back refusing to give up.

"Walkers!" Daryl warns and readies his bow again shooting off one into the head of the closest approaching one. Natasha cocks her gun as do the rest of them. Sophia and Carl whimper again and squeeze tighter against their mothers.

"You led us into a grave yard!"

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yells.

"Lower your voices," Natasha tells them as she surveys the front of the CDC building, looking for the power box. She can tell that the shutters are mechanically operated so that there would be operators on the inside and somewhere hidden on the outside in case of emergency. The problem was that they were always well hidden and even if you happened to find it and get it open the chances of actually getting in were slim to none. But Natasha had worked in this building before; she knew the ins and outs. She worked undercover at the CDC for seventeen months. She knew how to operate and hack into the computer systems. Now she just hopes that everything was still the same here.

As the others bickered at each other and began panicking Natasha found the small box of wires and controls are carefully and cleverly hidden in the wall between the shutter doors. It blended in nicely just as before. She crouches over it, using her elbow to knock off the case cover and lid. She'll admit that it causes more pain than she expected. The wires are expertly tangled and colored coded, she doesn't have enough time to sort through this and she begins to worries. The group is already becoming rowdier by the minute and full of darkness is approaching just as the Walkers are.

"Just shut up." Shane pushes Daryl back away from Rick. "You hear me? Shut up. Shut up! Rick, this is a dead end."

"Where are we gonna go?" Carol cries.

"Do you hear me? No blame."

"She's right. We can't be here, this close to the city after dark." Lori pulls Carl closer to her as she tries to hurry Rick on a decision.

Natasha picks a wire, removing it from its place carefully. When she pulls it out a light on the above the shutter flickers on for a short moment before going completely out. "Damn it."

"Red, what the hell are you doing?"

She ignores him and continues working, computers were always more her forte.

"Fort Benning, Rick—still an option."

"On what? No food, no fuel. That's one hundred miles." Lori tries to tear him away from the idea. She's smart enough to know that they would never make it and they have better chances finding a place for the night. More walkers would start coming soon enough, they didn't have much times or options. "Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight, now."

"We'll think of something." Rick tries to calm them.

"Come one let's go. Let's get out of here please."

Natasha hurries to push the front wire away so she can get to the back. She stares at it a moment, processing the situation to see if they can do anything else. But no, the wires in the back have all been severed and damaged, someone made sure that no one would be able to find a way in form the outside.

"The camera, it moved." Rick walks toward the camera quickly, trying to get a better look.

"You imagined it."

"It moved." He continues to insist."It moved."

"It's an automated device. It's geared, okay? They're just winding down. Now come on." Shane tries to convince him but Rick is having none of that and Natasha knows better.

"Someone's in there."

"Not you too, Red. We need to leave, now."

"I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Please, we're desperate." His voice becomes strangled and rougher. Please help us. We have women and children. No food, hardly any gas left."

"Rick."

Natasha grabs onto his arm. There's no point to this, whoever may be in there fear too much to let them in. They need to get off the streets.

"There's nowhere left to go!" He pounds on the door and Lori does her best to try and pull him back. "If you don't let us in, you're killing us! You're killing us!"

Rick continues to call out to the person behind the camera as they drag him away. "Rick, we need to go! Stop this!"

There's a loud screech and they turn to see the shutters open, flooding the streets with light. The others can't seem to believe their eyes. They stare in shock for a moment, not know what quite they should do before the gears in their heads start turning again.

"Daryl, you cover the back." The rest of them with guns all fall into formation, the others without weapons are locked in the middle to keep them safe.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, his voice echoing through the abandon lobby space. "Hello?"

The sound of a gun being cocked draws their attention and they turn to see a man only lightly illuminated by the lights in the other room. "Anybody infected?"

"One of our group was. He didn't make it."

"Why are you here? What do you want?" The stranger asks them. His gun has lowered slightly but it still remains aimed towards them.

"A chance," Rick's voice has gone shaky again.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

"I know."

Natasha watches him with a close eye as he looks them over. He doesn't hold the gun he has correctly and his stance is off. Even if someone who hasn't shot a gun in years will remember how to hold it. He is no real threat, at least not to Natasha. But that doesn't mean he won't be able to shoot.

"You all submit to a blood test." The man tells them, his voice firm and clear. He had some role of authority. "That's the price of admission."

"We can do that." Rick nods his head in agreement.

"You go stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

The others scramble to get their necessities and other supplies. Natasha stays, watching the man. She has nothing that really belongs to her but the close on her back and her weapons. They huddle back in, all following closely to the man. They end up an elevator going down. It's the quietest it had been since Natasha first got to this world. Sophia grabs onto her hand and squeezes. Natasha does the same in order to give her some comfort and reassurance.

"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?" Daryl asks from the back of the elevator.

"There was plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself. But you look harmless enough." Jenner turns and jokes before meeting Carl's shy stare. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Carl smiles and it eases the tension somewhat.

"Are we underground?"

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"A little," Carol answers, she does look even more hook up than before.

"Try not to think about it."

Great advice, she can almost hear Clint whisper in her ear. The thought sends a sharp pressure towards her gut, so she shakes her head lightly to try and clear her thoughts.

"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." The lights flicker on in sequence, the room is then with the hums and beeps of computers. "Welcome to Zone Five."

The room is stark white and there no sign of other people in or around it. Odd, the CDC had always been filled with people working none stop. When Natasha had been on assignment hardly anyone had ever taken advantage of their breaks. A lot of people tended to work until they were about to pass out from exhaustion.

"Where is everybody? The other doctors, the staff?"

"I'm it. It's just me here." Jenner walks toward the middle of the room.

"What about the person you were speaking with? Vi?" Lori walks up to stand with her husband.

"Vi, say hello to our guest. Tell them…welcome." As soon as he says it a female computerized voice comes through the speakers. It repeats Jenner's commands exactly. Natasha remembered Vi but it had been a new program when they worked at the CDC. It had still been in beta mode. They had wanted to see how it fared and worked with commands. "I'm all that's left. I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a review! Tell me what you liked, what you think is going the hell on!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CDC is just another disappointment, more questions than answers.

Natasha had always hated getting her blood taken. She would never admit it out loud but needles made her skin crawl. She could handle them just fine on any other person but with her, it was a different story. Maybe it was because of being constantly poked and prodded as a child and well into her late teens. There was always a price for perfection, even though she was still far from that. Joke's on them.

"What's the point?" She can hear Andrea asks the man. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here. Let me at least just be thorough." He releases the syringe and sets it down. "All done."

Andrea takes a few shaky steps after getting up before pausing. Her eyes are closed and she begins to breathe in and out her nose slowly.

"Are you all right?" Once a doctor always a doctor, it seems.

"She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have." Jacqui answers for her before leading Andrea over to sit down. A look of sympathy and compassion comes over Jenner's face as he looks them all over.

"I'll fix something for all of you, after this." He picks up the blood samples and puts them away before turning back the group. "Come on, follow me."

Dr. Jenner treats them all to dinner and Natasha can see the almost normalcy return to the group, as if there wasn't flesh eating monsters outside their newfound sanctuary. However, Natasha was trained to have a watchful eye; no movement is able to get past her. She sees the way Jenner moves cautiously around them and the way his body tells truths that he is not yet willing to spill. It's obvious to her that he is hiding something. The rest of the group cannot tell or are either too naive or tired to see.

Rick rises out of his chair and raises his glass of wine. "It seems we haven't thanked our host yet."

"He is more than just our host!" T-Dog calls out and the others agree in unison, clinking their glasses.

Before Natasha can get the chance to ask the questions that's been weighing over her head Shane beats her to it.

"So when are you going to tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?" The room begins to quiet down; all drawing their eyes between Jenner and Shane. "All the other doctors, where'd they all go? Aren't y'all supposed to be figuring out what happened? "

Rick puts his drink down and the hardships of the past few days began to show again. "We're celebrating, Shane. Don't need to do this now."

Natasha speaks up; she gets the feeling that they don't have time to wait around. "It's a good question, Rick. And an important one, it's the reason why we're here."

"Red's right, Rick. It's why we're here, right? For all the answers but we only found him, one man. Why?"

The group looks to Jenner again, now all curious and wondering the same questions Shane asked.

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted." Jenner explains.

"Every last one?"

"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They…opted out." The realizations dawn on the group. "There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

"You didn't leave." Andrea inquiries. "Why?"

"I just kept working, hoping to do some good."

Glen sits back in his seat looking tired and sickly. "Dude, you are such a buzz kill, man."

Later on, after they've all finished eating, Jenner leads them to a place they can rest and set down their things. At the mention of hot water, the group becomes less tense and happier. The worry etched on their faces put away.

For awhile, Natasha just sits on her makes shift bed on a couch. For the first time since New York, she feels truly weak and exhausted. Everything begins to crash down on her and she realizes that she doesn't know what to do. Or what she can do. She doesn't recognize Jenner and there is no one else at the CDC. She has no connections anymore as far as she knows. Lydia Bradley was the last SHEILD agent undercover at the CDC and now she was gone. Natasha feels unbelievably lost.

Natasha gets up; she can't stand thinking like that. It's not like her and she was trained not to think like that. But this wasn't a part of training either, this whole situation was nothing she was ever meant to deal with but then again neither was New York. So she stops thinking and opts to go looking for the showers, it will do good to clear her head.

When Natasha shuts off the water she can hear arguing from down the hall. The voices sound familiar, of a man and a woman. She dries off and dresses quickly. If it's who she thinks it is, Natasha knows they can't afford his hot-headedness to cause problems.

"And there was no way! Yeah, but then I had y'all to think about, didn't I? I had you and car; to think about."

"Okay! No no."

"That's what I had to do! Just stop." Natasha can hear the sound of a table being pushed across the tiled floor. She puts her hand on the door and readies herself to burst in.

"Shane, stop! Get your hands off me! Get your hands off me!" She can hear Lori cry out and Shane yelps.

Natasha pushes open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the wall. "Back the hell off, Shane."

It's quiet and Lori looks lost and scared.

"Go, Shane." Natasha orders.

He looks at Lori one last time before walking out the door, hitting it with his fist as he goes. Lori begins sobbing and looks likes she's on the verge of having a panic attack. Natasha walks over to her quickly but carefully. There's no need to frighten her anymore than she already is. She puts a comforting hand on her arm and leads her to the couch.

"Calm down and go to bed, Lori. It'll be alright. Catch your breath. It's okay."

Lori nods her and her sobs began to calm down. Natasha isn't really sure what to do but this seems like it might be enough.

Natasha is quiet; she can't afford to make a sound. She walks carefully, slow to make sure her steps don't make a noise in the dead of the night. The room is quiet and dark, everyone is asleep, even Jenner. It's the perfect time to make her move. She walks in front of the main computer, activating it. It takes only two tries for her to crack the password and hack into the system, within only a few minutes every piece of information and event recorded is before her.

She types hastily; she can't linger around for too long. No telling when someone might come along.

She sorts through the files, scanning over every detail until she finds what she needs. Virus Z. (XZ*), it reads. She reads the contents thoroughly and furrows her brow.

Virus Z. (XZ*) Report, Draft 3.1

7.3.10

New theories on how Virus Z. have surfaced, there are still very few actual answers. After much pestering and pushing on our part, a breakthrough has finally provided some much-needed answers.

On the 16th of May, it is believed that a new strain that had mutated rapidly in only twelve months time was somehow released and exposed to Scott R. Green, Melissa J. King, Jon R. Jones, Henry D. Daniels, and Kari B. Docks, who had all been assigned to the strain. Within only a week of being exposed to the virus two of the five scientists had become severely sick and were emitted to the hospital by their family.

Subject One: Melissa J. King

Melissa J. King was the first one emitted to the ER on May 27; her symptoms were less severe and treated as an unknown infection. King stayed in the hospital for the next four days where she became even more ill and aggressive. According to hospital records, her skin had become clammy and leather like, her eyes began to yellow and her behavior changed dramatically. She refused to eat the food the hospital provided for her and demanded meat, nearly raw. Her behavior continued to become more erratic and dangerous to herself and others.

On June 4th King attacked and gravely injured two nurses and a civilian to escape the hospital. King was not seen for three days, a series of suspicious attacks on civilians were brought to attention during the time she was missing. The civilians had been bitten and chunks of their flesh missing. One civilian would later die of infection and the other's status is still pending.

After a wide spread search through Atlanta, King was found by two fishermen dead, her body had been floating under a dock and was already rapidly decomposing.

After gaining permission from King's family, the CDC was allowed to take the body and examine it for further research. After many samples were taken from Kind's body, she was cremated.

Subject Two: Henry D. Daniels

Daniels was emitted to the hospital after his wife reportedly discovered he had a temperature of 104.5 f. After a week in the hospital Daniels fever and well-being had seemed to be back to normal circumstances, he was given antibiotics and sent home. Daniels was home for three days before his fever returned and he became aggressive towards his family, according to his wife and son. After Daniels attacked his wife and son, his family left the house. It is unknown what Daniels did during the two days he was alone.

When his wife returned to check up on him she discovered the inside of the home in dismay and packaged raw meat is thrown about everywhere. She immediately called the police. Daniels was never found, his location was not been discovered and his body never came up.

It is still unknown whether Daniels is dead or alive.

Other Members of the Virus Z. Team

Scott R. Green, Jon R. Jones, and Kari B. Docks were put into quarantine when the connection between King and Daniels was discovered. Their blood had been infected with the virus. Their treatment is still an ongoing project. Nothing so far had been successful.

Natasha doesn't know what to think. This doesn't sound like anything she's ever heard of before, not with SHIELD and not when she was working at the CDC. Natasha hears a throat clear behind her and she spins around quickly, a hand reaching for her gun. She mentally berates herself. She hadn't been watching her surroundings. She was too absorbed in the report.

It's Jenner. He raises his glass of water to show he's not a threat. Natasha takes her hand off her gun.

"I thought I'd find you down here." He tells her as he walks down the stairs to the computers.

She's surprised. "Why is that?"

"You worked with my wife."

"Candace. Candace Jenner is your wife." She realizes.

"Was, she died. But before she died she told me about you and SHEILD. She told me that if I could get a hold of you somehow, you could help us. I tried and I tried but when I asked about SHEILD they just laughed."

"I'm sorry. Candace was a smart woman."

"You can't help us anymore, can you?"

It feels as if there is a lump in her throat. "I'm not really sure anymore."

Jenner sits down in the computer chair and sighs. "Yeah, I thought so."

"What happened to Candace?"

"Same thing that happened to everyone else out there. She got infected and waited to die. Then she did."

"How much time is left on the clock, Jenner?"

He looks up surprized and looks as if he's about to ask 'how' but shakes his head. "Less than twenty-four hours."

"Were you going to tell the group?"

"I don't know." Jenner looks older than he is now. "You're blood is clean you know. There's a pathogen or something, hell, I couldn't even properly identify it. And that may be the answer to this, but it doesn't matter now. It's too late."

Natasha sits down beside him for awhile, not saying a word.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds out more on what has happened and makes a startling revelation.

No matter the circumstances, it is always a strange and surreal realization that you are going to die. Natasha sits back against the wall in what used to be an old rec room. She stares at the pictures on the walls, at the people in them, they smile not aware of the type of death comes for them. Natasha does not sleep. Despite being there being no windows and them being underground her body is wired like clockwork, the sun is rising. It is a new day but one unlike the others.

No one else has woken yet, their makeshift beds are better than any other they have had so far. They'll sleep through their exhaustion for several more hours, she assumes. She heads to the showers. The water is cool against her skin and washes away the dirt and grime from the last few days. The water pressure is terrible but it is greatly welcomed. It's the small things that bring back a fraction of normalcy as if nothing had changed. 

Natasha looks over herself. There are no strange markings that look like magic or scars that weren't there before, only the skin that had always been there. She stands there until the water runs cold and her fingers ache from the temperature. In the mirror, it looks as if nothing about her has changed. Her facial features are still trained in a neutral position (no one would ever know what she was thinking), there are no dark circles under her eyes to give away her sleepless state nor is there any sign that there is something wrong.

But there is. Time is crucial and there had been a constant nagging in her head, gnawing at her better judgment. Does she let these people die and she along with it? Or does she flee and find a way home. Ignorance is perhaps best for them but SHIELD has trained her different. This is different.

Voices echo down the hallway. Natasha has been in the bathroom for almost two hours. The floor and walls are still wet from trapped steam. It won't be long from now.

The bathroom door opens and there stands Shane. He walks in and closes the door with his head high but he looks everywhere else but at her. Natasha can feel her body moving into position, she doesn't even think about it. She aware of every twitch of his body and hiccup of his chest.

"Red, about last night…" He pauses, losing whatever train of thought he had going.

"What about it?" She asks, grabbing the brush off the counter and combing through her hair. The corner of his lips twitch and his nostrils flare.

He moves forward again but stops only to lean against the counter and rest his head against the palm of his hand before running it through his hair, frustrated.

"If you are going to tell me not to say anything I wouldn't bother wasting your breath." She tosses the brush back down and maneuvers past him towards the door. She pauses as she turns the knob, "but I tell you this, if you ever touch anyone like that again, I will break every bone in your hand and we'll see how well you fend for yourself."

Shane whips around and grabs for her. Natasha is quicker than he is. She quickly pins his arm against back by his wrist and shoves him against the wall. She can see the scratches Lori left him deep in his neck. The scenario is reminiscent of her first day at the former campsite. Shane grunts at the force and struggles briefly against her hold before backing down.

"That wasn't a smart move on your part, Shane."

"I just wanted to explain!" His voice his muffled against the hard wall.

"I don't care what you have to say and I don't care about whatever this little thing between you and Rick's wife is." Shane stills at her words. "It doesn't concern me but it can become very messy in the long-term if you don't settle it and if I'm still around for that I'd rather not get into a mess. You compromise yourself and everyone else, so watch your step before someone else with above average intelligence realizes something is amiss."

Natasha lets go his arm but he doesn't bother to move. He stares at the wall with a hard, bitter gaze. He stays there long after she leaves him.

Most of the others are in the dining hall, gathered at the few tables they had pushed together last night, chatting away and looking seemingly normal. The smell of military standard packaged food lingers in the air, freshly cooking. Natasha nods as a few others greet her as moves to make a cup of coffee, the smell is refreshing and shakes away the dullness from her lack of leep. She hasn't allowed herself to sleep properly since they left for the CDC.

She can hear Glenn groaning softly into his hands as he tries to hide his eyes from the light above them. It seems that most of the others are hungover as well when Rick walks in rubbing his head and squinted eyes. Rick is followed by a stifling silence only felt by the three as soon as Shane walks in.

Natasha would call if Rick a blind fool if this was anywhere else.

"You feel as bad as I do?" Rick asks from his seat next to Lori. The barley looks up to see Shane pull out a chair.

Shane's voice is gruff. "Worse."

T-Dog comes out with another fresh batch of powder eggs and grimaces when he notices the marks on Shane's neck. "How'd you get that, man?"

He meets her eye from across the table as if she might say something. "Must've done it in my sleep."

Rick perks up, trying to catch a look. "I've never seen you do that before. It's not like you."

Shane's eyes hardly leave her before sneaking a quick glance over at Lori. "Not like me at all."

It's all silence except for the scraping of plates and Glenn's quiet groans until Jenner walks in, headed for the coffee as well. Any mood of pleasantness is gone as soon as the real question as for why they came all this way popped up. They wanted answers and any Jenner gave them were none they were going to like. Her throat is thick with eggs, her mouth dry and no amount of coffee would help.

They follow him into the main room. VI is brought to life and the screens light up, illuminating the room. Jenner pulls up the same video she had watched repeatedly until she could play it back image by image her head until her eyes burned and she ached. TS-19 is not a happy story. It holds more questions than answers and leaves whoever watches it left with the bitter taste of truth. Natasha had gone over the file over a dozen times. Candace Jenner did not deserve to die this way nor did she deserve her sacrifice to be soon obliterated. But there was little they could do now.

"Few people ever got the chance to see this."

Most of the group stares in awe, the way people do when they realize something is bigger and greater than them all. There is fear, too and when he explains how everything they ever were and would flicker out with nothing left there is sadness. The air is thick and the knowledge of what is to come is heavy over everyone's heads (particularly those who know much more than they'd like). Natasha glances towards the bright, red clock numbers that seem to be counting down much too fast. Soon they will have less than an hour. She still does not know if she leaves or if Jenner will tell the rest as well.

The playback is still running. The lights go out, leaving nothing left but the virus invades and there is truly nothing left. The gunshot surprises them. It is all too real now. No hope left among their faces, only fear what is to come. Andrea looks ill and the rest are lost for words.

Darkness envelops them once again as the screen powers down. There is no comfort in the truth (there are no answers to their questions, just more possibilities as to what it might be). The clock still ticks; they have less than an hour now. Dale is the first to notice. He walks over pointing at the damn thing with accusing fingers.

"What happens at zero?"

Jenner looks like his tongue is caught. "The basement generators run out fuel."

They don't know what he means but they can tell it is nothing good. Unease rippled across their faces and stiffens their bodies.

"VI, what happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."

They don't have to think too hard about what that might mean.

Natasha follows after the men after they rush down to where the generator is located. Their conversation echoes through the halls long after they have left. The hallways are as dark as the rest of the building, the need to conserve fuel is very real and Natasha suspects that any minute now that whatever is left is about to the run out. The lights flicker out for a split second before the emergency lighting flickers on. The last of the fuel is gone. It won't be long now.

She finds them huddle over the fuel gauge trying figure out if there is anything left. Rick has more determination in his eye than before. He looks at her carefully, as if he's trying to find the right words that will get her to talk.

"The building is beginning to shut itself down. All non-necessities will be powered down to conserve energy and when all that is done the rest of the power will do to contamination."

Glenn is freaking out. He paces rapidly across the floor and his breathing is heavy. "What does that mean? What does that mean?"

Natasha purses her lips tightened into a straight line and looks them all slowly in the eyes. "In order to keep anything from getting out, the building will self-detonate."

She doesn't stay to see the looks on their faces or to see the realization sink in. She needs to find Jenner, she needs to get any files that might be of use. Rick and Shane call after her, their voices far behind her. When Natasha finds him, Jenner is downing a bottle of liquor; he is preparing himself for death. He sees no other end. "Do you plan on dying here?"

Jenner sighs deeply and rubs his face roughly. It looks as if in the last few hours he has aged greatly. He looks like a man who has nothing left. There hasn't been much left for him to go on for anyhow, the CDC was the last that was his. It was only that he had left.

"I thought I could find a cure, an answer, just something that would before that clock ran but I realized all too late that I am only one man. " He takes another swallow and finally looks at her. "I never planned on dying here. No one does, but here I am."

He turns back to watch the rest of the lights go out through the large glass windows. The rest of this section will be going down soon as well. The air's already stopped running as well.

"Get us out of here. Come with me and I'll find us a way back to SHIELD."

"How do you even know it's still up and running?"

"SHIELD has dealt with things would give a normal person nightmares." She tells him, grabbing the bottle from his hand and tossing it into the waste bin. "I have little doubt in its ability to keep away from mindless, flesh-eating zombies."

Jenner looks like he deciding if he should take the bottle out of the trash and finish it off. He looks as if her words just went right through him. "I better go talk to them. They're going to want answers."

Natasha knows he has no real intention of speaking with them of the entire truth. He is keeping things to himself because he thinks it'll make things easier on him and everybody else but that is never the case. They're yelling at one another. Jenner is a fool if he thinks it will work out this way. He ignores them all and goes to record the last video transmission in case others might find it (ever so diligent, even when death is less than half an hour away).

The red warning lights come on and VI announces the counting down of the last half hour before the CDC is nothing more than smoke in the sky. When they yell and demand more than he is will to give Jenner lets the computer do the talking. The realization that the air around them will soon catch fire sends them all into shock. Rick is doing his best to usher them out before then but the metal doors slam shut and they are trapped. Jenner is trying to reason with them, tell them that this is for the best. The easiest way to go.

The men are fed up. They beat and throw objects at the metal door trying to break them open. Natasha is busy gathering a duffle bag filled with documents and other essentials she might need. She doesn't plan on dying here nor is she going to let Jenner try and stop her. She pushes him away from the computer, getting access to the keypad. They're tough to crack. Too many wrong entries and the whole system locks up. Before she knows it Shane is pushing her and everyone else out of the way, a shotgun steady in his hands and pointed directly at Jenner's head.

Natasha watches carefully. Surely he knows that if Jenner dies than the chances of them getting out are slim to none but Shane is hot-headed. He's not thinking clearly. He's willing to do anything to avoid death by this gas chamber. Rick tries to ease him away from the station but Shane only goes on a rampage, shooting the computer systems out of anger. Natasha's had enough.

Natasha swiftly grabs the gun and discharges it with ease before pulling it out from both their grips and using the butt of the gun to knock the wind out of them. They heave on the floor and the rest of them are silent. The room is stiffly quiet.

"Get it together." She points the unloaded gun at Shane. "We don't have time for you to throw a fit. Pointing a gun at someone's head isn't going to help our predicament if he's already so set on dying."

The others are looking wildly at her, out of shock and out of fear. She tosses the gun to Rick and turns back to Jenner.

"Jenner, let's stop playing games. You don't get to choose who has the right to live or die." She tells, taking another step closer. "That's not what she would've wanted. She wanted you to keep trying and now you're giving up."

"It's too late!"

"It's never too late. You have more than one chance and it is out there. Dying here doesn't solve any of the problems you have. These people want a chance. Just like you do and just like your wife did."

Rick gets up and pleads with him. His voice is desperate and he is not above begging to get out. Jenner looks sick, his skin clammy and the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever. Natasha works the key-pad some more, their voices are dulled out as she re-focuses. There isn't much time now. Daryl keeps beating at the door.

Jenner moves her away and scans his ID and doors open. She feels the relief and the joy flood into the room.

"Let's go! Come on, let's go!"

They holler and grab their things as they run out, looking for their next exit. Natasha looks at him carefully (he doesn't look away for once). There are less than five minutes left.

"Red, let's go!" Shane yells from the door, guns heavy in his arms.

"Come with us. We can make it back to SHIELD."

Jenner shakes his head and laughs lightly. "How can you know?"

"Like I said, SHIELD is very capable and so am I." Natasha holds up a black backpack in her right hand. "And besides, I've already pack you a bag."

"Why do you care so much if I choose to stay?"

"Because the world is going to need someone like you to help end this mess. That's why your wife made you promise to stay, she knew you could do some good."

"Red!"

He takes the bag.

Despite getting the doors open and another chance to see daylight they still leave with one less person. Jackie stays behind and she is right, it is a very sane decision. The grenade explodes and the window shatters to the ground. They've found their way out. They run into open and head for the cars, shooting and slaying the walkers as they go. The clock ticks down (Natasha can hear it in her head) and Jackie still stays long after Dale and Andrea follow after them. The clock ticks down and Jenner ducks into the back of the jeep, Shane pulls her down with him and covers her body with his. She can hear his heartbeat and feel the harshness of his breath against her neck. The clock stops.

The ground shakes from within. She can feel the vibrations of the explosion long before she hears it. The air crackles and the building combust before the flames can even reach the ground. A wave of heat hits them and debris flies over them as the rest of the building crumbles and black smoke fills the sky, nearly blocking out the sun. Sweat trickles down her neck.

They drive away from the wreckage without much of a second glance. Only smoke follows the now and even then it will soon be gone off into the distance.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their getaway from the CDC they get stuck on a highway. Natasha finds herself becoming a mediator and a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The most up to date chapter in this fic!

They drive for hours until the early morning hours pass and the sun is high in the sky. The Atlanta heat does not let up, it only worsens as they drive on and as the minute's pass. The wind is warm against their skin and Natasha is beginning to feel the fabric of her jumpsuit chafe against her skin from sweat. It is far less breathable now.

Jenner has long since passed out in the back of the jeep. She hasn't heard a word from him since they got out of the city. Shane is nearly just quiet, the only thing coming from him is the occasional swear and grunt as he fiddles with the radio stations trying to see if he can pick something—anything—up. It proves just as fruitless on the fourth try. Only static is left to greet them.

Natasha bends around the passenger seat until she is kneeling in it and digs through one of the over packed duffle bags. It is filled with mostly non-perishables and a little water. She pulls out one of the few full bottles of water she had managed to find besides the half full jug tucked away in the corner. They'll need to find a way to restock soon, with all of them together they have less than a week worth of water. She zips the bag shut and turns back in her seat, propping her feet up on the dashboard.

"You gonna share that Red?" Shane asks, glancing over as she takes a swig from the bottle. The water is warm but it is a relief to her overheated body.

She shrugs her shoulders and holds it out for him. "If you'd like."

Shane takes large, messy gulps until it dribbles down his chin and wets his shirt. He lets out a low sigh of relief before handing the bottle back to her. Natasha watches him carefully as she takes another long drink as well. The bags under his eyes are prominent, his tanned skin flushed red and sweaty from more than just the heat. His fingers twitch on the steering wheel as if he is aching to do something much more. It's something familiar. It seems they've both been cooped up too long already. She drums her fingers along the door, trying to focus on something other than the stifling heat.

Natasha runs a hand through her hair, it's longer now and tangles much more easily and is sticky with sweat. She wonders if she should cut it again.

"There's some rubber bands in the glovebox if you'd like." Shane's voice is low and steady if she were anyone else she would have jumped in surprize.

She raises a brow before proceeding to dig around in the slightly cluttered compartment, filled with mostly a few tools, loose paper, and a flashlight until she pulls out the elastic band. It'll be a pain to get out later but it's worth not having a terribly sweaty neck. Natasha loops her hair through it quickly enough until her hair is high and no longer in the way.

"Thanks."

There is still an uncomfortable stiffness between them and no amount of space between the remains of the CDC and them will help it. Frankly, Natasha is fine with it; it isn't her business but she can tell easily enough that Shane is still bothered by it. She barely closes her eyes in the hopes of a quick cat nap when he finally breaks and slams his hand against the steering wheel.

"Listen, Red, about this morning— "He stops abruptly, unsure of what he should say. Natasha glances over at him until he meets her eye. He nods to himself and looks back at the road ahead of them. "About this morning. I didn't mean to come off that way. I know I look like a tool, especially after last night, but I'm not that guy. I got no right being like that, I know."

He meets her eye again. "You don't need to explain anything to me."

"I do, fuck, I dragged your ass into this. I don't know how much you know but we've all done some things out here to survive and a lot of things are nothin' to be proud of but it's too late to take them back."

It's an ever familiar story of survival. Humans do awful things just to stay alive. Natasha knows she is no better than he, or anyone left in this world for the matter, they have things on their hands much worse than blood. There is very little humanity in survival. Natasha meets his eyes but there is nothing really for her to say. His eyes are just as hard as hers and when they meet there is a familiarity only people like them recognize.

Once they hit the far outskirts of another town the group breaks and rest. There is no shade from the sun, the children are restless in the cars. Everyone needs a breather but there is so little time. They count the hours and watch the sun. They only have a half a day left before dark.

Rick heads off, along with a few others, in search of more gear and supplies before they carry on. They all scavenge the wreckage around them, what little is left they take. Natasha does not bother with them, she knows she is still an outsider and not one to be easily trusted. So instead she rifles through what she had tossed into the duffle bags. Shane watches her from a distance. She can feel his eyes on her. Always accessing, looking for whatever she's not saying.

When Rick and the others come back, with only less than a gallon of gas from siphoned cars, they decide to leave behind the jeep and truck. They have too little left to waste. Natasha grabs the bags and heads the too the RV, Jenner close behind. He hasn't said a word. He only carries a stare that Natasha knows all too well.

Natasha sleeps all too light. She is propped up against the far wall, each vibration bouncing her head. She can still hear everyone else's voices from where they are, can tell who is who. The RV jerks to a stop. Natasha has lost an hour.

"Oh, my god."

They drive through a graveyard of cars and bodies. Natasha leans over to look out the window; there is no sign of life, nothing left but broken things left behind by the dead. A slow, uneasy chill makes its way up her spine. Something is on the horizon.

"Can we get through that?" Glen is staring out the window in bewilderment before something pops from the hood and steam rolls out from under.

Natasha stands straight as she checks over her weapons before heading out the door with Shane. It's going to be a long night if they can't get out of the area before dark. The cars are wrecked and windows are busted out but most are free of looting. She can only guess a swarm came through before they could leave. The heat only worsens the smell of dead flesh and rotting food in the cars and road. There's old blood all over, too dark to tell how old and long ago it was left. It was a wonder how they had gone so long driving without seeing more cars left like this on the road. For a short, while it had seemed life perhaps here it would be safe enough but Natasha knows that the woods are just as bad as the city now. The dead walk and walk until they find what they need. They never tire, their sole purpose the eat.

"This is a graveyard," Lori says. She looks almost ill, the uneasiness present in her voice. "I don't know how I feel about this."

The group pauses, hesitating only until Rick ushers them on. Survival beats out guilt any day. Natasha looks up at Lori and wonders what it must be like to stay so soft hearted after so much death.

"No matter where we go there will be places like this," Natasha tells her. "This world does not care for kindness."

Lori looks angry for a moment and then her face softens. "I'd like to think there is still a need for it."

"Not this time."

Natasha heads out back, hand on her holster and at full alert as she walks from car to car, checking for any movement. She can hear their quiet chatter from where she is, their voices seem almost at ease for the first time since the camp. She wonders how long it will last this time. How long until the next panic and displacement. In this world, nothing seems to last too long.

A black, plate less car catches Natasha's eye. She looks around once more before peeking inside. The windows are tinted too dark to be standard. She can barely see inside, only shadows. She pulls open the door with little effort. There's a thin layer of dust over everything but no signs of blood or struggle. Natasha sits down in the driver's seat and begins to rummage through the car. The glove box is locked. With nimble fingers and the help of a lock pick, Natasha opens it. There's a gun. The Glock is government issued, no serial number or other identifying marks to be seen. Guns like this are used on covert assignments. Specially made to accommodate no trace back. Interesting.

Natasha opens the trunk and smirks at her luck. There lays a black duffle bag, an arrangement of guns peeking out. A folder catches her eye as well. She pulls it open only to see mostly blacked out document papers. There's no name attached, only snippets of lines that seem pointless without the rest of the blacked-out words.

"Merging? Merging of what?" Natasha flips through the papers looking for more of what its subject matter is. "Anomalies found at following locations: and of course, they're blacked out. Power fluctuations near known anomalies. Woman found near anomaly location: name unknown and does not appear on any known database."

Something drops behind her. Natasha swings around, grabbing her knife from her waist band and shoves it up through the walkers head. Blood splatters across her face and neck. It gargles and old blood spits from its mouth before she lets it drop. She looks up only to see dozens more. She fingers the grip of her gun and tightens her grip on her knife. Natasha can still hear her companions chatter, water hitting the cement, the clanking of car doors and then, nothing.

Natasha dives into the trunk of the car, pulling down the hood until only a sliver of light flows in and she can see the dead walk past her. It's quiet, only the growls of the dead and their patter of feet. It feels too long; her nerves grow and her grip on the knife is almost painful. She stays out until the last walker passes by. She lets out a breath. A child screams.

Natasha climbs from the trunk, searching for more walkers, gun held high in front of her. She runs for the others who have all gathered by the edge of the road. Lori is holding onto a distraught Carol. She hears her crying and begging to go after her daughter. The sound it leaves a sick feeling in her stomach.

"What happened?" She asks when she's close enough for them to hear her.

"Walkers spooked Sophia and she ran off," Shane tells her. He looks her over, following the blood trail from her face and neck to where it had dripped and fallen on her chest. "You alright, Red?"

"Walker blood. So much for that last shower."

Shane huffs out a laugh. "Better get used to it, Red."

Natasha looks out into the woods, there is no sign of anyone coming. A bad place to run blindly to. Daryl calls out to them. T-Dog is with him, cradling his bleeding arm against his chest.

"Holy shit!" Glenn comments as they pass.

Natasha steps over to him. Her mind racing on what steps to take first. "Come here, quickly. Help get him over here to the RV."

They sit him down on the steps. T-Dog is pale with blood loss and it looks like he might pass out soon if they don't help him soon. Dale hands her a clean cloth which she promptly presses to the wound and ties it tight down against it T-Dog yells out in pain.

"I need sugar and water."

Dale furrows his brow. "Sugar?"

Daryl looks up and nods. "Old school trick. Helps treat the wound."

She uses the old jar of sugar Dale had and mixes it water until it's thick enough to spread over the wound. T-Dog hisses at it runs over the wound and grinds down on his teeth. "This should help clean the wound and kill off any infection on the mean time. We'll have to do this until we can get that stitched up."

"Where'd you learn that shit?" T-Dog asks.

"It's good to know in general. Old school tricks never go out of use when they're in abundance." She tells as she puts the thick, blue gauze Dale gave her on top of the wound. The tapes it down tightly making sure it won't come loose.

"That wasn't no answer."

Natasha cocks a brow at him but is amused. "My…father taught me. He was quite the survivalist."

She laughs internally as her own description of that man. There had been nothing father-like about him but she wouldn't be who she was today without him.

"Not your most favorite person, is he?" T-Dog asks a look of understanding in his eyes.

Natasha gives him a small smile and pats his arm. "Not quite. You should be fine for now. I've stopped the bleeding for now but keep it slow. You need to rest."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

Shane calls Daryl and Glenn over. "We need to go out and help Rick. It's gonna be hard enough looking through those woods without walkers after him."

Natasha glances up at him. "Should I come?"

"Nah, Red. Stay here and keep an eye on the rest of the group in case more Walkers show up while we're gone."

"Don't get lost."

"Funny, Red."

Natasha leaves T-Dog to rest after Shane and his group leave. She heads up to where Lori and Carol are standing next to the rail that separates them from the woods. Carol is crying quietly against Lori's shoulder. This is not a surprize, this is what is expected from this world but it leaves a sourness in the air like none other. Natasha is skilled in conversation and comfort. She knows what words to say to someone who is pain and needs comfort but she can't find it in herself to say them. The words seem hollow before they even leave her lips.

Natasha walks away from them and heads over to one of the jugs of water they had pulled from a delivery truck. The water is warm but nice against her flushed skins. She scrubs at her face and neck, rinsing the blood from her skin. Natasha settles back against a car trying to take a moment to catch her thoughts. Jenner's words still echoing in her mind. She looks down at the RV. She can see him looking out a window. He still had the look of a dead man but she knows getting him to come along was her only chance of understanding what was happening.

This world is not her own but in some way, it is. She can't explain it, doesn't know how but she knows there is more to this.

"Red, you in there?"

Shane asks, walking over to her. He picks up the jug and pours it over his head before crouching down next to her.

"Did you find her?"

He shakes his head solemn. "No. Daryl tracked her prints but we lost them."

"It's going to be dark in a couple hours. There isn't much time."

"I hate to admit it but after nightfall, I don't think she has much of a chance." Shane is a man who sees the worst and expects the worst.

"Little kids are resilient."

"Can only hope, Red."

Nightfall comes without any trouble. They sleep in shifts, one person on top of the RV and another looking out into the woods. Natasha can't sleep. She gets out of her car of choice for the night and heads to where Shane is. He seems to be her source of companionship lately. She can see him breaking down more and more. He is a train running out of track.

"I saw your little spat with Lori."

Shane gives her a sharp look, angry with rage and pain. "You don't know shit, Red."

"I know quite a lot. You two aren't so slick when it comes to how you act around each other. This whole group turns a blind eye. They look away because they don't want your drama when they already have all this to deal with."

Shane hits the steering wheel of the car with an opened fist. He doesn't meet her eyes. "Red, you don't know— "

Natasha cuts him off, truly angry for the first time since this mess started. "I do know. Let me guess, Shane. After you left Rick in that hospital, thinking there was nothing more you could do but help him by getting his family away from this mess. Then somewhere down the line you and Lori found one of the few ways left to ease the ache that left. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's actually pretty normal but you can't seem to accept that she loves her husband and feel guilty thinking he was dead just you do."

"If…if I had known," His voice is quiet and unsteady. "He's my best friend, Red. I love that man."

She studies him. She can see him cracking under pressure, under the strain of this world, of all the bad he has done. Natasha knows she herself has been there at that point.

"Then act like it. Let what you've don't go."

"I can't go back to who I was before this. No one can."

Natasha looks up towards the sky searching for the right words. "You don't have to. You are who you are now. It's a matter being who you want people to see you as. Don't let this break you more than it already has."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how's it going?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While searching through the woods looking for Sophia the group suffers another tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter since the first but it's a necessary evil. Basically, a quick filler to get the action moving along but also so that you know what's going on.

They leave late in the morning. The morning air is cool against their skin but tension has them all too strung to properly enjoy it. In this light, the forest seems almost serene but they all know what lies ahead and what they will find. Carol stands by the railing again looking out for her daughter, waiting and waiting for her daughter to call out to her. Natasha looks away.

They head in the forest one after the other. Rick thinks it's best for them to stay close for the time being and cover more ground later. Jenner is walking to her left side, quiet as ever since she convinced him to leave the CDC. The argument between Dale and Andrea had stirred up something that left Natasha unsure. It was a strange feeling she wasn't quite used to. Guilt. She had taken his choice away just as Dale had taken Andrea's to stay. Natasha hadn't been in this world since the beginning. Hadn't seen the breakdown of society from the start.

"You thinking about the CDC?"

It's the first time Jenner has spoken. Natasha meets his eyes and is surprised by the smile he wears. The empty look in his eyes hasn't quite left but now he seems more awake and living in the now.

"Did I take your choice away?" She asks, the question heavy in the air between them.

Jenner takes a moment to answer, brow furrowed and mouth tight. He answers her in a low voice, quiet so only they should hear. "No. You made me realize I had more to do. You have more to do, don't you? There's been something strange going on since before all this. I have a feeling you're somehow part of that."

She purses her lips. There's too much uncertainty. Too much is unknown to her and it is not something she is used to. "I guess we'll see."

Natasha stops mid-step. There is a gentle ringing coming from far off in front of them. Church bells. The group becomes almost frantic, circling around each other trying to figure out which way to go. Natasha looks up in search of birds but the sky is clear.

"Come on, this way!" Rick calls to them as he heads forward.

There is no bell tower. Just an empty church with a few dead. Natasha can see the group begin to deflate from the disappointment. Sophia is nowhere to be found and they have already lost more than half a day. The air is tense when Carol is around. The group doesn't know quite how to react to her pain and anger that she carries. Rick is a man who people will follow but he is also the one who they will blame for leading them to the wrong places.

They rest in and around the church, trying to keep away from the smothering heat. Natasha catches Lori's eyes, sees her own worry and anger. She watches as Lori walks to Shane words hushed and fast. Natasha can only hope the situation between them doesn't lead to a bigger mess. Natasha was not made to be a mediator. She has no interest in becoming one but this groups survival is her own at this point. This is not spy work. There is safety in numbers.

Rick splits the group. He, Shane and Natasha are to go search for Sophia. Carl is not far behind. He is also very talkative to Natasha's amusement.

"So you worked for the government, right?" He sounds almost excited.

"Yes."

"Were you, like, a spy? A secret agent?"

Rick laughs at his son's seemingly absurd questions. "Carl."

Natasha smiles coyly at Carl and gives him a quick wink. "Something like that."

The look on Carl's face is joyful and wonderful like he is now in on a secret. It's not a look she has seen on anyone since that brief window of ease at the CDC before reality knocked at their door again.

Shane shushes them. It's quiet except for the gentle rustle of leaves and branches. Up head of them stands a deer, oblivious to them and the chaos outside of this forest. It's a tender moment, another moment of ease. Carl steps closer to the deer, each step more care than the last and his hand raised in front of him just almost in reach. The gunshot snaps through the woods and into Carl.

Rick is yelling but his cries fall on deaf ears. Natasha pulls out her gun and steps past him and the dear, deeper into the woods where a man sits in shock, gun limp in his hands. Shane runs up behind her, his gun pointed directly at the man head.

"Red, go help Carl. You gotta know what to do."

Natasha tucks her gun away. "Find out where he came from."

She runs back to Rick and Carl. The blood has nearly begun to spread and stain his shirt and skin. Rick is cradling his sons head, whispering soothing words into his hair followed by the occasional 'no'. Natasha lifts his shirt high and feels under his back. No exit points. She hurries to rip the sleeve of Carl's plaid shirt and folds it tight to hold against the wound.

"Rick, we need to get him somewhere." The blood is already oozing through the fabric. She can feel it drying under her nails. "Rick, give me your belt."

The man is distraught, her words seem to go over his head. "Why?"

"I need to keep the wound covered. We can't let air get into the wound."

That seems to get him into a different state of panic. He lets go Carl's body and pulls the belt roughly from the loopholes of his pants. Natasha tightens the belt until it doesn't move away from the skin. Shane is yelling for them to come, to get Carl and run. There's a farm up ahead. The ache and burn in her lungs is a second thought as they run towards the farmhouse. There's too much blood. She can see it spreading, dripping onto the grass as they run.

Too much time is passing but it still seems to go all too slow. She can hear Carl scream from the other side of the door. There are six people living in this house. Three women and three men. Natasha looks over them each as she paces through the living room. She can hear horses faintly out back. Famers. Veterinarian. Carl stops screaming.

The house is too clean, too quiet. Natasha stands outside trying to wipe the blood from her hands but it has already dried.

"I reckon that was your handy work with the belt and shirt?" The old man asks as he comes out to stand next to her. He hands her a wet cloth.

Natasha nods stiffly as she rubs the cloth over her hands.

"You might've saved his life doing that. Just wanted to let you know."

She leans against the porch railing, looking out into the open as he goes back inside. Natasha feels uneasy and heavy with uncertainty. It'll be dark soon. Shane and Otis walk out onto the porch, guns, and bags in their hands. Natasha raises a brow in question at him.

"We're going on a supply run, Red," Shane says as he checks his bag one last time before looking back her. There is a familiar stiffness in his stance, the way he holds himself and the look in his eyes aren't comforting.

Natasha steps into his space. They are almost chest to chest; she can feel the heat radiating off his body and his warm breath. She pulls him down to her level in an almost lover-like embrace. "Remember what I said, Shane. You're losing it and this is not the time."

A bead of sweat rolls off the bridge of his nose and splatters against her cheek. They stare at each other uncomfortably long before Shane finally looks away. "Yeah, Red."

It's a long night ahead of them.

Natasha goes inside and plays nice. She takes the warm tea that the young blonde gives her and smiles in return. She sits and listens to the creaks of an old but cared for house and to the shallow conversations through the walls. T-Dog has begun to look worse for wear, an infection ripping through his system.

"Is that sugar?" The woman working on T-Dog's arm asks with a bewildered smile.

"Yeah, Natasha here has a lot of tricks up her sleeve."

"Haven't seen that trick used in a long time. I suppose this is the time to relearn old remedies."

After sitting and wandering around the farmhouse the truck finally pulls up the driveway but there is only Shane. He looks more fragile than ever. His eyes are wide and his hands shook as he gives Hershel the bags. His breathing is off. Natasha wonders if he is going to pass out. Rick cradles his face trying to calm him down but the strain never leaves his body.

She follows him up the stairs to the shower and waits for the water to stop flowing before knocking.

"Not now, Red." Comes his muffled reply through the door. "I'm not in the mood to talk."

"You're not going to like what I have to say if I have to say it in the hall."

The bathroom door opens. Shane looks even worse than before. He looks beaten down and hollow. What a change, she thinks. This is not the same man she first met. He's changed more than anyone and that change does not roll in anyone's favor. Natasha steps in and leans against the door. She looks him up and down once more, looking for any sign of bites or strange marks. He only bears the usual scrapes and bruises.

"What happened out there, Shane?"

He turns away from her and stares in the mirror running a hand through his hair. He pauses over a bare spot where hair has been pulled out. "I think you were onto something, Red."

"How so?"

He looks back her again with that empty look in his eyes. "I let him die."

Natasha walks over to Shane, takes the hair razor off the sink and holds it out for him to take. She holds his stare. "We've all done awful things, Shane. This is only the beginning."

"I get the feeling you've been manipulating me."

She smiles humorlessly at him. "Not in the worst of ways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, leave a review! Tell me your thoughts! XO


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day passes on the farm. Daryl and Natasha continue the search for Sophia with a few setbacks.

“We’ll all turn in our guns,” Rick sets down his gun on top of the truck hood. “This is your farm.” 

Hershel nods his head but still looks unsure at their group being on his land. He glances over nervously at his own daughter, Maggie, in reassurance. He doesn’t want them to be here but Natasha can tell he isn’t the kind of man to go back on his kindness and word. 

Shane huffs out a low chuckle. “You gonna be able to handle that, Red?” 

She smirks at him as she places both of her guns next to theirs. “I happen to work very well with my hands…and a knife.” 

It’s midday already and the heat is thick and humid against their skin. Natasha can feel the sweat roll of her neck and stick to her uniform. She wondered if she would ever truly be used to this southern heat. Clint had always teased her about her aversion to the heat even when she had had never actually complained, he had just always known. Natasha clinches her jaw and ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach. How long has it been since she last saw him? It was a strange thing to work with anyone else when she had grown so close to him over the years. 

“You comin’ or not?” 

Natasha looks up at Daryl. He is ready to move as always. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him seem truly settled, ready to stay any longer than he needs to be. He is not someone who is used to be wanted past their usefulness. Natasha checks her blades, making sure each dagger is in its proper place one last time. In her younger days, she had been quite fond of close combat; a blade in one’s hand made everything much more personal, the stakes higher. She swipes the borrowed machete as well. It never hurt to be over prepared. 

She nods and starts towards him. “Let’s go.” 

She follows his lead through the woods. She might know her way around but she knows when to use someone else’s skills to her advantage. Daryl is smart, capable. He could survive out here better than anyone else in their group could. They don’t speak much for the most part. There isn’t much to say and Daryl doesn’t ever seem to feel the need to share his spill. 

The first place they come across is an actual cabin, seemingly abandoned, the windows are busted out and front door ajar. Daryl heads in first signaling her to follow him with a flick of his fingers. She watches him from behind, quiet and observing. He is every bit of a hunter and a tracker. Each step he takes is planned and does not let the seemingly empty cabin think he can put his guard down. He would’ve done fine in spy work if he had put his skills somewhere in life. 

There isn’t much in the cabin beside trash and rotting food. There is no blood or foul smell in the air to signify something more sinister. Who had lived here before, Natasha thinks. How long did they last? Daryl stops his study of the cabin to look at the trash left on the floor. He picks up an old can of sardines, smelling it before promptly dropping it. He turns and shakes his head. Not eaten anytime recent. The pantry door is cracked open but there are only an old sleeping bag and no sign of the girl. Daryl’s shoulders sag and his steps become heavier as he opens the front door and calls out Sophia’s name. His only response is an echo. 

Natasha has no high hopes for the girl. It has been almost four days since and Natasha knows enough about this world that a girl without a weapon is as good as dead sooner rather than later. It is a heavy thought but she knows hope is one too. She thinks about her own tryst with the woods when she was young. It is an old, blurry memory but she remembers the cold and the fire burning behind her as she was walked deeper into the woods. Natasha shakes her head from the memory. She purses her lips into a fine line. How strange, it had been years since she thought of that night. 

She heads to where Daryl is next to a small patch of strange flowers. Their round white petal and yellow center stand out against the woods. Daryl plucks one from the ground with careful fingers so not to damage it. 

“Do you know the flower?” she asks, watching him as he inspects it. 

He nods slowly, holding the flower up to her to see. “Cherokee Rose. Story goes that on the Trail of Tears the mothers were crying so much because their babies were dying and going missing and so the elders asked for a sign to uplift the mother’s spirits. These bloomed where the mother’s cried.” 

Natasha smiles to herself. She is pleasantly surprised as the knowledge of such a thing and his willingness to share it. Under all that roughness and brash, bruising words there is something else more gentle underneath it. Daryl is more surprising than she would have thought. He meets her eyes and she can see his shoulders go tight and grip on the slower rougher than before. 

“What?” his voice is gruff and quick as before. His softer tone now gone. 

Natasha shakes her head and lets her smile go. “Nothing. Thank you for telling me the story, Daryl.”

He gets up quick, still holding onto the flower. “We’re not going to find anything else out here. Let’s head back.” 

Daryl makes it a point not to say anything else. They head back the way they came. It has been oddly quiet as of late. Natasha is surprised they have not come across more walkers even if there is mostly only farmland. The woods should have attracted more people looking for escape and of those things looking for a meal. It does not sit well with her. A whole town dead and no bodies to show for it. 

They’re only about half a mile out from camp when Natasha supposes she should have ‘knocked on wood’. 

“Shit.” 

There’s five of them, all in different stages of decay and horror. Natasha pulls out both daggers with skilled ease and goes for the closest one. They’re too close for anything else but blades. Natasha weaves through them and shoves her blade in the man’s skull and kicks another walker back as she pulls it out. One down, four to go. Daryl is at her back his own knife drawn. She can hear him growl louder than any of the walkers as he drives his knife through and through their skulls. The sound of steel and bone echoes throughs the woods. 

“Daryl!” Natasha grabs the walker closing in on him by the little hair left on its head. She can feel the scalp beginning to pull away, the skin separating and bleeding before she rams her blade in its eye. 

She lets it drops. Its blood splatters against her boots. Daryl grunts behind her, nearly on top of the walker as he repeatedly stabs its skull until they can see the white of its bone. Blood splatters up against his face and chest but he makes no move to wipe it away as he catches his breath. Natasha picks up the fallen Cherokee Rose, twirling it in her fingers before holding it out to him. Not a spot of blood on it.

Daryl nods his thanks and tucks his knife back into his pocket. “Come on, we’re almost back.” 

The sun has changed position. It’s much later in the day now, early evening at her best guess. They’ve been out here for a good few hours. The easy silence has settled back between them once more and it’s almost like being alone. Despite all his similarities to Clint, Daryl didn’t have his knack for constant chatter or running his mouth. It was strange, despite being around so many people since waking up in this world it was lonely and not one she was used to. 

“How’d you learn to fight like that?” Daryl breaks the quiet. “I never seen no fed move like that.”

Natasha gives him a coy smile. “I learned young. I’m an expert at hand to hand.” 

He snorts. “Could’ve told you that the first time you had me on the ground. Didn’t see that shit coming.” 

“I’m very fast. And quiet.” 

The camp and farm are just coming into view. She can make out the RV in the distance and a few tents. 

“What’s with get up? They make you wear that catsuit doing whatever the hell you did?” 

She smiles again, it’s a usual question one she has long since heard a thousand times in many different forms. “It’s tactical. No loose fabric to grab onto, waterproof, if some tried to cut me with a knife it wouldn’t penetrate. Stabbing is a different story.” 

She pauses for a moment and then grins teasingly. “Why, you want one?”

Daryl looks her up and down from the dried blood on her boots to her face. “Hello no. Catch me dead before I ever put that shit on.”

“It’s not so bad.” She shrugs. “I don’t have to worry about one of those trying to take a bite from my arm or leg.” 

“You sweatin’ in that?” Natasha grimaces and he laughs. “Point made.”

Out of the woods now they begin to split away from each other, Daryl headed towards the RV and her the house to wash up. She stops when she spots an old brown beer bottle, wrapper peeled away and clean enough looking. 

“Hey, Daryl.” 

He turns around. “What?”

“Catch!” She tosses the bottle and he catches it well enough with his free hand. He looks at it strangely for a moment before getting the gist. 

She’s already past him when she hears the soft yell of “thanks” behind her. 

Later that night they eat a combination of squirrel and woodchuck and a few canned greens that they cook between their camp. It’s mostly quiet, everyone too tired to really say or do much. The heat is stifling even after the sun has gone down and despite the food now they are still hungry. Natasha looks up at the sky, outside the city the stars are bright and she can see the Big Dipper and the North Star. She puts up her hand and closes an eye so she measures the stars. 

Glenn looks at her strangely but curious. “What are you doing, Natasha?” 

“I’m measuring the stars.”

“What for?” 

Daryl cuts her off before she gets the chance to reply. “She’s checking the time, dummy.”

“That actually works?” 

Natasha smiles. “It's around nine. We’re in the month of August.”

“To think that two months ago everything was still normal,” Dale mutters, looking up at the sky as well. 

It’s silent again, the mood shot. Time moves slower now; it had only been about a week or so since she woke up in Atlanta but it felt longer. Natasha could only imagine what the last two months felt like for these people.

“Hey, kid,” Glenn looks up at Daryl. “You really let them put you down a well?”

He groans. “God, how many times am I going to have live through that?”  
\--------

They spend the next morning looking back over another map. This time they have planned groups and sections to look through. Natasha watches the flash of anger pass through Shane when he hears the plan. He shakes head furrows his brow in discontent. 

“I’ll borrow a horse and head up the ridge,” He nods to Natasha. “Natasha, too.” 

Natasha smirks. “You going sweet on me, Dixon?” 

“You’re the only one who knows how to handle a blade.” 

Horseback riding is one the few skills in her arsenal that Natasha rarely gets to implement. The last time she had ridden a horse was years ago in Russia. It was a fine horse in front her, obviously well taken care of despite the current state of the world. Daryl is quick to act having already saddled his horse and making a beeline for the barn doors. 

“You coming or not?” 

Natasha pulls herself with practiced ease. “Let’s go, cowboy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Daryl gives her an almost nasty look. Natasha snickers.

“What?” 

“I ain’t no officer friendly.” He tells her as they trot towards the woods. 

She laughs, “Careful, don’t hurt his feelings.” 

He waves her off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

Up on the edge of the woods, the ground is much more unstable, slippery even. They haven’t seen any sign of the girl or walkers for the matter. She wonders if they all fell off the edge. She can hear water not too far off. 

“What’s the deal with you and that ass?” Daryl is further ahead of her and she almost misses it. 

“I’m guessing you mean Shane?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t slow down. 

“Didn’t think you were one for gossip.” She commands the horse to a gallop and paces herself next to him. 

He sneers. “I’m not some damn girl.” 

She smiles and raises her brows at him. She’s curious as to what got him interested in the whole mess. Most likely only for some sort of self-preservation. 

“I’m trying to be a friend,” that is the simplest way of putting it. 

“He’s losing it and you’re working damage control.” 

Natasha is surprised by him once more and she chides herself for brushing him and a few others off when it came to their observation skills. Daryl is a hunter, a watcher. He probably watches these people just as much as she does. Always looking; always ready.

“Something like that,” she tells him. “If this group is going to last then the people in it need to keep their heads.” 

“Always lookin’ out for yourself, huh?” This time he looks at her. 

“We all do it,” it’s simple nature. “As do you.” 

“Got that right.” 

The sun is high in the sky shines down upon the woods, hitting them and casting shadows from end to end. If Sophia were to be wandering around Natasha hoped it would be now. The woods seem clear for miles. They’ve come across nothing, not even another animal. There was a reason Natasha never participated in search and rescue missions. They were hopeless the longer they took; they wore you down and broke people. 

“Let’s split up,” Natasha trots forward and points out to the other end of the ridge. “I’ll search over on this end and you over there. We’ll cover more ground. No point in wasting daylight.” 

Daryl nods and turns his horse in the other direction. “We’ll meet back here. Two hours before dark.” 

Daryl doesn’t come back. 

Natasha waits another half hour before looking for him. She back tracks on his steps. It’s easy enough to find where the ground has been disturbed, branches broken and leaves crumpled and trotted upon. She hops off near the edge of the ridge and ties the horse to a nearby tree. There’s blood here. She follows the strange, patchy trail down the slope of the ridge. A lone arrow sticks out of the dirt, arrow ends up. 

“He fell,” Natasha almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it. It was starting to seem like Clint’s superstitions were starting to rub off on her. She pulls the arrow from the dirt and heads back up to the horse. 

She slowly makes her way down the ridge to where there is water and the body of two walkers, freshly killed. There are splatters of blood all over the rock but she can’t tell which is whose. This day is beginning to feel longer and longer. She wonders if that echo had been him earlier but it has been too faint to track in the woods. 

“Daryl?” 

She waits but nothing comes, not even another walker. 

Just as Natasha is about to head back to the farm Daryl’s horse runs past her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Her own horse whines at the sudden bombardment. Natasha runs and hops onto the back of the horse, commanding it to run until its neck and neck to the frightened mare. She pulls out the rope from the satchel and lassos the horse, pulling until the horse calms down and settles against the restraint. 

“It’s okay, girl. You’re alright.” She runs her hand along its mane in slow, soothing motions. “Looks like you gave Daryl a good toss, huh?”

The horse's saddle is loose and crooked. He must’ve tried holding on before he got bucked off. It’s quiet again, except for the occasional whine from the horse. There is no more light in the sky, only milky gray and blue tones in the skyline left. Her body is taught the whole ride home. 

Natasha rides in slow towards the stable. The light is still on, as is almost every light in the main house but the camp is silent and dark. She lets both horses be, careful to close the gate and nearly runs to the house. She follows the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It is almost picturesque, all of them together, almost like the world outside is a fever dream. The chatter stops. 

Being at the center of attention is always uncomfortable. It is one of her favorite tactics. 

“Natasha, you’re all right!” Glenn smiles in what seems to be disbelief. 

Rick gets up and beckons her forward. He seems tenser than when they had split up this morning. “You alright? We thought something happened to you and Daryl out there.”   
Natasha shakes her head at their worry. “I’m fine. Where is he?”

“He got hurt pretty bad. Hershel fixed him in the room down the hall.” 

She stands there for a while as they fill her in on the specifics. It has indeed been a long day. She doesn’t bother to knock when she finally makes it down to the hall bedroom. Daryl is laid up in bed, his head and torso bandaged and bruised. She fiddles with the arrow in her hand. Natasha closes the door, leaning against it. 

Daryl looks up. He looks much smaller here, tangled in bed sheets and gauze. “What’s that?”

She smiles teasingly, “Found it stuck in the dirt. I’m guessing you dropped it when you took that tumble in the mud.” 

He yanks it from her hand in one swift motion. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” 

“I brought your horse back.” 

“Good, I can kill it when I get outta here.” 

Natasha snorts, taking the glass from the nightstand and taking a good drink. Daryl squints at her in the dim light. 

“What took you so long?” 

“I was looking for you. Found your blood trail and figured you found your way back.”

He looks almost confused. “What, you get lost? Took you that long?”

“I happen to be thorough,” she pauses as if she needs to think of something. “Not only did you get an arrow through your side, you got shot too. I think you might have everyone here beat.”

“Yeah, lucky for me Andrea can’t hit shit.” 

Natasha leans over to get a good look at him. “You should clean up more often, it’s not a bad look. Also, helps on not getting shot.” 

He turns over looking a little flustered. “Whatever.”

She opens the doors and turns to leave just when she hears his voice. She looks over to him but he still has his back to her. 

“Thanks for the arrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, guys! How are you liking Natasha and Daryl so far? The plot? Thanks for taking the time to read and leave kudos and such.


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha wakes before the sun has finished its path across the horizon. She climbs out of the tent Glenn had procured for her on his last trip into town. The morning air is cool and welcoming. She imagines it won’t be long before winter settles in. It would be a hard life on the go for the group if the temperature continued to drop and they were on the road. Natasha supposes it is a good thing that Rick has managed to take leadership of the group. He’s the only one who could manage to convince Hershel them being here could be a good thing but Natasha knows a bleeding heart only works so long.

Shane, on the other hand, is growing steadily more loose-tempered at the days grow longer. Natasha does not see him stopping before the inevitable fall from grace. Killing Otis, whether it was out of revenge or survival, had left a clear mark on the man’s psyche. Pressure grows between Natasha’s eyes. She looks away from the skyline and massages her temples in slow, easy motions. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. The longer she seems to be here, the more her body reacts to things she had long since grown used to. It was strange and unsettling to not know for once what was going on.

Another tent crinkles and zips open unceremoniously beside her. Glenn walks out, his face downturned and his eyes unfocused. He wipes his hands up and down his pants legs as he spots Natasha. He looks around quickly and only settles down once he sees she the only one awake. Glenn walks up to her and stumbles on his words.

“Hey, so,” he wipes at his brow. “uh, you’re a woman.”

Natasha cocks a brow at him and smiles wryly. “All my life.”

He winces at the way it comes out and turns back around to search for any movement. He walks further out into the field, away from the sleeping group on motions for her to follow. The grass is wet at their ankles and sends small chills up her legs. Once they reach the spot Glenn has decided is far enough out he leans in close to her, his head ducked down at the ground.

“I, uh, found something out the other day and I don’t know how to go about it.”

Natasha leans in closer until he looks at her. “Do you have a secret, Glenn?”

Glenn somehow manages to pale and go red all in a short span of a few seconds. “Don’t say it like that!”

She laughs lightly as he hisses out the words, still peaking over his shoulder. “Well, what is it then? I’m very good with secrets, you know?”

He sighs heavily and rubs at his arms. “Lori’s pregnant and I think she needs help.”

Natasha blinks. That wasn’t what she had expected. Glenn looks at her expectantly and she knows what he wants to hear. He wants her to be concerned and to agree with him and to tell him what he should do. She runs the last few days through her head, all that tension that had rolled off Lori made bitter since she supposed.

“I'm assuming you already helped her once and now she’s changed her mind on a few things.”

“Yeah.”

She glances back at the camp, quiet and undisturbed. She can’t imagine the chaos that must be raging through Lori. To live in a world like this and have a child is a death sentence in the making. Natasha shrugs and shakes her head aphetically.

“Lori is a big girl, Glenn. She knows what she’s doing.”

Glenn waves his hands and opens his mouth in disbelief. “She’s pregnant! Shouldn’t, like, Rick know?”

At that, Natasha raises a brow. Rick was not in her choice of potential fathers. “That’s up to Lori. We can’t make that decision for her. Some things are harder to say than others, Glenn.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Her words weighing heavy on him. “Yeah, okay.”

Just as Natasha is about to head back and get ready for the day Glenn opens his mouth only to close it hurriedly. He furrows his brow and frowns.

“What?”

He looks out over to the field, past the Greene house. “The barn…it’s―”

“Filled with walkers?”

“How’d you know?”

Natasha stares at the barn in the distance, listening carefully to the rustling of tests behind them. She meets Glenn’s nervous gaze and smiles pityingly at him for having to keep such a heavy secret from his friends. She shrugs nonchalantly and turns to head back to camp.

“I counted the chickens.”

The sun is now high in the sky and the morning chill has begun to dissipate. Glenn hurries back to his tent and Rick and Lori climb out of their own. She can hear Carl’s muffled voice from inside asking for just a few more minutes of sleep. She walks past them with a quick nod and towards her own tent when a voice calls out to her.

“Where you off to?” Daryl asks from the comforts of his tent, the flaps unzipped and wide open.

Natasha leans down to look inside. “I’m going to follow your trail from yesterday, might find something where you left off.”

He sits up, reaching for his bow. “I’ll go with.”

Natasha pushes her hand against his chest and shakes her head. “You really want to rip your stitches that quick? It’s only been a day; I don’t think Hershel would like us to run through everything he has.”

He huffs, leaning back against his propped pillow. “Yeah, just don’t go getting lost this time.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wasn’t lost but if that makes you feel better.”

She leaves before he can say anything, heading off towards the barn and being sure to avoid Nervous Nelly. The deeper she goes into the woods the less she sees. Despite the abundance of light coming through the treetops, it is still thick with overgrown vegetation and tricky shadows. It eerily quiet. There is no sound of wildlife running through the trees or birds chirping in the branches. Just a strange silence and the wind rustling the leaves.

It’s easy enough to pick back up on Daryl’s trail. In some way, the lack of rain the past week was a blessing; no tracks would be washed away before they got the chance to find them. The horse neighs in discomfort as they go down a rather unstable hill, the ground too soft to hold well and keep balance. The waterfall is nice to look at, scenic and lovely but bloodied. Natasha guides the horse closer to where the walkers lay, heads smashed in. Only they aren’t there anymore.

Natasha searches the woods, trying to see through the crowded trees. She only hears the rushing of water; there is no breaking of branches or suspicious noises. She hops down from the horse, tying it to the nearby tree. There is a trail of blood leading towards a shallow, worn out path. She can make out the edge of bloodied tread leading the same way. Tennis shoes, not hunting boots. Not Daryl’s tracks.

Pulling her blade out of its sheath she makes her way up the path, sure to walk in step with this mystery persons own tracks. The tracks become let defined, messy. The specs of blood stop and become long smears in the dirt. One set becomes two. Two different types and neither the same size. Natasha leans down and runs her fingers between the dirt. Still wet and soft. It hadn’t been too long since whoever had come this way.

Whoever they were they seemed to frequent this path often. Twigs and plants fresh mashed flat into the dirt and the ground flat and almost smooth. Natasha ducks behind a tree. Not too far off in the distance are the walker’s bodies stacked upon one another. A twig snaps and she can hear a steady stream of water hitting the ground. Natasha grips her blade tight. A man comes out from behind a large tree trunk zipping up his jeans. He walks in broad steps, the gun on his hip is easy to spot.

“Come on, Dennis.” The man spits on the bodies. “We ain’t got all damn day.”

Another voice, much further back, calls out. “I saw that little bitch run this way!”

“We came for walkers, not live ones. Just wait till she’s dead. She can make a wall piece later.”

Natasha clenches her jaw, careful to listen to every word. She leans back behind the tree and adjusts her wrist gauntlets. The Widow’s Bite would be enough to take them both out if she can’t hand to hand. She waits for the other man’s voice to come louder, closer followed by footsteps. She peaks around the trunk. Both men are of average size. Nothing remarkable about them besides the fact they seem to be clean and wearing untattered, dirty clothes.

“Nah, man.” This one is much younger, still youthful in his twenties. His gun is tucked into his waistband and he holds a thick ring of rope. “Boss wants to start the rings back up. We can put her in.”

The older man sighs looks down at the walkers and shrugs. “They won’t be going anywhere anyway.”

They head off back into the direction from where the man came. Natasha follows closely behind them from tree to tree. They stop under a large oak tree; the branches hang low and the young man nearly trips over himself to avoid them.

“Look, blood.” Dennis crouches down and rubs it between his fingers. “She must’ve got hurt. There’s a bit of trail but doesn’t look it was too bad of a wound.”

“Should slow her down,” the man laughs. “We already got one of her shoes. Little bitch ain’t gonna make it too far from us.”

Natasha doesn’t follow them but waits for them to get far enough head where they won’t see her. She can hear their voices echo, they obviously have no fear of being heard. She walks under the tree and inspects the blood for herself. The splatter didn’t make sense. Sophia is only about 4’9 in height but the blood splatter was too large even if had come from a head wound. It was at least a six-foot drop. The tree rustles and a twig snaps. The men are barely in sight anymore. Something wet hits Natasha’s cheek. She swings her head up, right hand reaching for a gun that isn’t there.

“Sophia.”

Natasha’s breath was caught in her throat. There she was, her blond hair matted with dirt and grime, and her clothes stained and torn but there she was. She was in a tree, climbed up as far as she could go. She was smart, she knew the walkers wouldn’t be able to get her up there. She gripped the trunk tightly, hugging it with her arms and legs. Her shoulder is bloody. Natasha clenched her jaw and swallows hard at the sight. Sophia’s eyes are closed tight but she whimpers as Natasha walks closer and closer.

“You’re safe, Sophia.” This time she says it louder to where the girl can hear.

She moaned in fear, moving her head towards Natasha. Her eyes fluttered opened slowly, adjusting to the light. “Mama?”

“It’s Natasha, Sophia.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m going to take you home.”

She’s fully alert now, her eyes are wide with fear and she grips the tree trunk. She looks at Natasha and then behind her. “Behind you!”

Natasha turns, pulling the dagger with her as she does. The walker that had snuck up her had half its bottom jaw hanging by its flesh, its tongue missing from its mouth. Natasha rams the blade up through its skull. She watches as its body crumples to the ground before turning back to Sophia.

“Will you get me down, Tasha?” She whimpers as she wipes her face with her left arm. “I don’t wanna fall, again.”

“I will, Sophia but first, I need you stay here.”

“Why?” She begins to cry. 

“Those men are looking for you,” Natasha tells her. “I need to take care of them before that happens.”

Sophia looks down at her unsure and fearful. She grips onto the trunk even tighter as she looks off into the direction the men went. “He tried to grab me but a walker got in the way.”

Natasha understands in this moment was Rick must have felt making that call to leave Sophia to protect her. “I’m going to be right back. I just need you to stay here. Don’t move, Sophia.”

She leaves the girl with a heavy heart. The men are easy to follow, their steps heavy and reckless. They don’t worry about being seen or heard. Natasha relishes in their stupidity. They’ve stopped again, the young one running his blade through a walkers head.

“I gotta go piss; you finish up with that thing so we can get back to it.” The older man steps off to where he is out of sight from the other.

“Tom, you got the bladder of a fucking pea.”

Natasha slinks through the trees, quick and nimble until she’s directly across from the man as he relieves himself. She crouches low until the man is oblivious to the world. She weighs her options; they are too close to the other man, he would hear the struggle if she didn't incapacitate him quick enough. The gun on the man’s hip was also a problem. Natasha gets up. She walks behind him in slow, deliberate steps and puts the blade to his neck.

The man swallows hard against the knife, a bead of blood swells at his Adam's apple.

“I want you to throw your gun to the left of you, nice and easy,” Natasha whispers in his ear.

The man’s hands shake as he pulls it from his holster. He holds it loosely with the tips of his fingers before tossing it aside.

“Thanks.” Natasha slams his head into the tree.

She steps over his unconscious body and slips his gun into her empty holster. She makes her way back to where the other man was but he's not there, just the body of the walker left undisturbed. Natasha doesn’t move. The stillness in the air is wrong and she feels eyes on her. A bird sings and the leaves snap. She swings around and catches the fist coming towards her. Natasha kicks him in the chest. He falls back coughing and sputtering in the dirt. He doesn’t stay down.

Dennis is a fighter with no proper skill. He runs at her, ramming her into the tree behind her. Her left shoulder makes a sickening pop. She yelps as the sharp pain traveling through her arm. Natasha grabs him his sleeve, using it to help hank his head down and slams her forehead against his nose.

“You fucking bitch.”

He falls back holding his crooked, bleeding nose. He growls as he struggles to get back up. He fumbles in his waistband grabbing the gun and shoots without looking. Natasha dives out of the way but the bullet catches her right leg, straight through her outer thigh. She chokes back the cry caught in her throat and shoots her Widow’s Bite. The man convulses as the electric current passes through his body, his gun falling from his hand as he whines through the pain.

She can hear the groan of a walker somewhere in the woods making its way to the noise. Natasha grabs his gun as well before checking over the man’s body. He doesn’t seem much different than the other man. He is well fed and dressed. On the back of his hand, there is a crude looking eye carved into the skin. A bolt of pain shoots through her leg and the pain begins to break through the dying adrenaline. The wound is bleeding profusely with each step she takes. Natasha rips the man’s shirt sleeve of and binds it tight around the wound. It is through and through, she can see where the bullet lodged itself in the tree. Her arm is another story. It hangs awkwardly from her body, halfway out of its socket. She grits her teeth and inhales sharply as she leans against the tree before placing her hand firmly on the injured shoulder. She shoves the joint back into place.

Natasha leaves just as the walker makes itself shown.

She races back to Sophia. There is a spot of fear that she has not listened and run off again but when Natasha reaches the tree Sophia cries out in happiness.

“Natasha, can we go back now?” She starts to pull herself down to the lower branch.

“Do think you can hop onto the branch right below you first?” Sophia nods. She scoots back slowly; both her arms and legs shake as she lowers herself down onto the bottom branch. “Good, now I’ll do the rest but I need you to jump down, okay? I’m going to catch you.”

She grips the branch even tighter. “Promise?”

Natasha smiles reassuringly and holds out her arms, “I promise. One, two, three!"

Sophia lands in her arms just as promised. She wraps her arms tightly around Natasha’s neck, unintentionally pulling at her Natasha’s hair but Natasha doesn’t mind. She grinds her teeth as another jolt of pain shoots through her arm. She just holds onto the girl just as tightly, letting out shaky relieved breaths. Sophia starts to cry; her sobs shake throughout her entire body.

"Are you hurt, Sophia?”

“It got me. The monster got me.” Natasha looks down at the girl’s shoulder. It is bloody and the skin torn to pieces. The bite is fresh, only a few hours old. There is an ever-familiar ache of disappointment and anger building inside of Natasha.

“It’s alright, we can go home now,” Natasha whispers in her ear as she rubs the young girls back. “I’m going to take you back.”

“Really?” She’s no longer crying but her voice still shakes.

Natasha can only nod, her voice has seemed to vanish. The walk back to the horse is a slow one, her, injuries hindering the process. She helps Sophia up onto the horse first and pulls herself up through the pain.

They’re barely on the edge of the property when gunfire rings in the air, at first, it’s only one shot but dozens of more echoes after it. Natasha meets Sophia’s wide-eyed gaze, her fear evident.

Sophia pressed her body closer to Natasha’s. She buries her face into the crook of Natasha’s shoulder as more gunfire cracks through the air. Natasha takes off at full sprint towards the farm. Sophia’s body bumps against hers with each gallop.

The gunfire slows. Natasha stops abruptly, the scene before her is a massacre. “Keep your eyes closed, Sophia.”

The group is shooting at the walkers coming out of the barn, one by one. Hershel sits on the ground in clear shock, his daughter, Maggie next to him with her arms around him. Carl and Lori are in the back. Lori is trying to keep him from seeing the bloodshed. Rick watches from the sidelines, his whole body taut. Then it’s over, Daryl fires the last shot.  
They stand there looking over the bodies of what used to be humans, friends, and loved ones. A look of realization is overcoming them as they stare at the barn doors. A small child comes out, her head is down but her hair is short and blonde. One could almost confuse her with Sophia from a distance or too quick of a glance.

“Sophia! Sophia!” Carol cries out running towards the walker child but Daryl grabs her, holding her back. She weeps in his arms.

“Sophia, are your eyes still closed?”

Another shot rings out and Sophia cries into her neck.


	13. Chapter 13

Blood soaks the ground and everything is silent except for the sobs that ring through the air. Sophia’s face is still buried into Natasha’s neck, hiding away from this mess, her body shaking in fear. Natasha rides in closer to the barn, still unnoticed by the rest of the group as the hooves strike the hard ground. The silence breaks.  
Beth cries out running towards the dead bodies, flipping them over and pushing them away. She cries for her mother but screams when the walker grabs her. The others rush in trying to pull the girl from her dead mother’s arms. Sophia grips her tighter at the screams grow louder. Andrea shoves a farm tool through the walkers.

  
“Mama!” Sophia shouts.

  
Carol looks up, tears still running down her cheeks and clutches at her chest. She runs towards the horse, grabbing her daughter and pulling her down into her arms. She cries into the girl’s dirty hair, gripping her tight and rocking her in arms as she collapses to the ground.

  
“Sophia, my baby.”

  
Natasha knows this happiness is short-lived but for the moment, it is a blessing. She looks up at the rest of the group who are all in various states of disbelief and relief. Daryl is staring at her with a peculiar expression, surprise, and admiration. Natasha begins to lower herself from the horse but another sharp pain shoots through her leg at the bullet wound is jostled unnaturally. She cries out and lets herself drop from the horse. The impromptu bandaged that was once blue is now a deep red. Daryl and Jenner run to her side.

  
“Guess I shoulda told you not to get shot,” Daryl jokes as he and Jenner help her stand, both supporting her weight.

 

Jenner looks over his shoulder at Hershel and his family. “Maybe we shouldn’t go the house. I take care of your leg in the RV.”

  
“What happened?” Natasha looks on at the mess before them. 

  
“A whole shit storm,” Daryl grunts as they make way toward the van.

  
Natasha pulls off her jumpsuit with mild discomfort. She grunts as the fabric rubs against the wound and slides down over it. Daryl holds her steady against his side as she fumbles to get it past her ankles. They prop her up against the wall, her leg laid out over a chair as Jenner gets the first aid kit and stitches ready. Daryl hands her an old, worn red shirt not quite looking at her as she takes it and pulls it past her head.

  
She lets out a shaky breath and tenses as Jenner dabs at the wound with disinfectant. Daryl grabs the gun she had taken from the man and turns it over in his hands, unloading and reloading it.

  
“You get shot with this?”

  
Natasha gives him a curt nod. “Ran into a little more than just Sophia. They’re dead now.”

  
Daryl places the pistol with the rest of the guns. “How many?”

  
“Just two. They lead me right to Sophia. She was in a tree and they walked right past her.”

  
Jenner chuckles. “Smart girl. I should probably look her over too. I think her shoulder was bleeding.”

  
Natasha catches her breath and clenches her jaw. She looks out the RV window where she can make out the figures of the group. It doesn’t seem anyone else has noticed the death mark that Sophia now bears.

  
Daryl taps her shoulder with the back of his hand. “What?”

  
It takes longer than she's used to for the words to get out. Daryl is looking at her like he’s waiting for bad news, knows that this moment is too good to last. He’s waiting for the mirage to end like it seemingly always has. She looks away from him, back to the wound that’s still bloody and only half-stitched, because the mess before her was easier to deal with than the one she was about to bring to light.

  
“You can’t help her, Jenner. She’s been bit.”

  
Jenner stops mid-suture. The silence is broken when Daryl slams his hand against the wall. He takes a few heavy breaths, his body stiff and still. Daryl runs out of the RV faster than either of the can get a word out. The door swings shut and the choking silence returns. Natasha tilts her head back and stared hard at the ceiling. She has long since grown used to being the bearer of bad news but this feels different, too personal. It is more unsettling that she would admit.

  
Jenner clears his throat but doesn’t say anything. He cuts off the end of the last stitch and bandages the wound shaky hands. He hands her the pair of shorts Daryl had grabbed along with the shirt and helps her stand to put them on. Jenner finally looks at her.

  
“My wife, Candance…” he pauses trying to grasp the right words. “When she was bit it was easier knowing she wasn’t alone. Perhaps Sophia’s mother will find comfort in that.”  
Outside the RV in the distance, Carol screams for the daughter she is soon to lose.

  
It’s strange how long a day can seem to go on. Natasha makes Jenner help her to the house. She needs to be away before Carol and Sophia come back. Her cries are a haunting wail that seems to echo across the land. In all the fuss, the youngest daughter, Beth goes catatonic and Hershel seems to have vanished. Natasha watches from the sofa with Jenner as Rick and Shane seem to look like they’re both about to have it out. Rick looks increasingly more tired as their time on the farm goes on and from what Jenner told her, Shane is becoming increasingly more unstable. It’s only matter of time, she thinks.

  
Rick glances over at her, his shoulders sag as he comes and crouches beside.

  
“Natasha, you saved Carol and this group a lot of grief,” Rick gives her a tight-lipped smile and glances at her alleviated leg. “What happened?”

  
“I ran into a few men gathering walker bodies. I don’t know what for but they turned out not to be so friendly as you can see.”

  
Rick furrows his brow. “Walker bodies? I guess that might explain why there seem to be so few around here.”

  
Shane snorts from behind him. “Yeah, the barn was just a few I guess.”

  
“I don’t think we should go out in the woods anymore,” Natasha tells him. Those men had had bad news written all over them. Coming across them had left her feeling sick with anticipation of the worst kind. “I imagine they aren’t going to be so welcoming to any of us.”

  
He nods in understanding, wipes the sweat from his brow and stands to leave. “We’ll talk more about this later. We need to go find Hershel.”

  
Glenn brings her a book before they head off and looks like he might say something but she can see it in his eyes. Their shared secret with the barn had finally come to light. She doesn’t get more than a dozen pages in before Carl shows up, hands behind his back like he’s hiding something and his head down before he comes to sit next to her. Carl holds out several bright yellow and white clusters of a flower that Natasha can’t remember seeing since as a young girl in Russia. She smiles pleasantly at the unexpected gift taking them gently from his sweaty palms.

  
He’s slightly red in the face from the heat and from giving them to her. Carl hunches over on himself, hugging his own arms and only making brief eye-contact with her. “I picked some for Sophia and I thought you might like them, too. Since you found her.”

  
Natasha twirls the flowers gently between her fingers before resting them in her lap. She sets her hand lightly on Carl’s back. He sags into her touch but still doesn’t look at her. He stares down at his shoes, scuffed and dirty with wear. Natasha leans over as best she can until she is close enough to him where they can speak in whispers. Carl’s face is sullen and still red from anger and tears.

  
“Thank you, Carl,” she speaks softly into his ear. “You are very kind.”

  
He holds another bundle of flowers tightly, his fingers trembles at he plays with the petals. Natasha rubs her hand in comforting circular pattern against his back and leans a little closer. She places the flowers down beside her and holds her hand over his. Carl looks up at her wide-eyed and desperate for something the world can’t give him. It is disgruntling to see a look in someone so young but it is inevitable, Natasha knows this.

  
They stare at each other until the moment is gone and all that has been said through their eyes is finished. She looks back to the flowers in his hands and slowly eases herself up off the couch. Natasha holds out her hand in beckoning.

  
“Come on, let’s go deliver those flowers.”

  
He takes her hand with sweaty and shaky fingers.

  
Sophia, who was once lively and bright, lays sullenly in her makeshift bed. The few hours that had passed has already begun to take its toll on her small body. Her skin was sallow and clammy, her lips pale and cracked despite the amounts of water Carol rationed out for her. The RV is thick with grief. Dale looks on from the table his eyes heavy and tired. Carol fusses with cleaning only stopping to rest a comforting hand on Sophia’s head. Her hands shake as she takes it away.

  
Carl’s nails dig into the soft flesh of Natasha’s hand. He stares wide-eyed and fearful (not of Sophia but of this new unknown reality). They sit down next to her and ignore the heaviness that hangs down over them. Preparing for death and knowing was coming never helped. The wait is what breaks people; wanting it to be over one minute and another counting the minutes left, wondering if you said all the things you wanted.

  
Natasha felt a surge of bitterness and anger as she looked at Sophia. She clenches her jaw and bites down on her tongue. Looking at Sophia, this dying girl, filled with something she had not felt since she was a young girl in the Red Room. Sophia smiles at her and asks her to sing. She smiles just a wide, careful to not let her see her thoughts. Natasha sings in a language they do not know but it is the only one that has ever comforted her. The words glide off her tongue the way English doesn’t.

  
“Полети в мою сторонку,  
Скажи маменьке моей,  
Ты скажи моей любезной,  
Что за Родину я пал.”

  
In this world, Natasha has come to learn that worse is just around the corner. It is not at all that different how she used to live life even before SHEILD. She has no false ideas; she knows what is to come and it never fails. It is a quiet night but something is off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, what do y'all think? This chapter is a bit shorter than my average totals but it is a necessary evil. The next few chapters are when things will really start to pick up and go off more from the main storyline. Any thoughts, theories, or questions?
> 
> Translation for song:
> 
> Fly you now, off to my homeland,
> 
> And say to my mother dear,
> 
> Say to her, my darling mother,
> 
> That for Fatherland I fell.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week of Randal on the farm.

On the second day with Randall in the barn, Shane can be heard yelling from the old windmill. It has not been a pleasant experience. There is a stranger among them and it feels too often like Shane might just be another one. The tension is drowning them. 

After much of the fuss subsides, Rick finally meets her to talk about what had happened in the woods. They are away from prying eyes; the porch is quiet, the house near empty as the others try to go on with their day as if there isn’t a young man chained tied up in the barn or the threat of the dead constantly lurking. Routines are the only sanity some of these people have left. Ever since the barn, nothing has quite felt right again. 

Rick looks troubled and grows wearier each day. It has only been a few weeks since they had first met but she can see the toll this world was taking on him. His hair is already spotting a few silver strands and his beard was filling in just as colored. He is thinner, the stress of his son and Shane, and now a baby was a heavyweight. He sits back on the porch swing with her and rubs the sleep roughly from his eyes. Natasha wonders if the days have grown too long for him as well. 

“Again, Natasha, thanks for everything with Sophia,” Rick holds her stare. “I know you’re still new among us but I’m glad you’re here. You’ve done a lot for this group, more than some would.”

Natasha thinks of Rick as a strange thing. As of late, he is in a strange in-between place of morals and what must be old world beliefs. Natasha knows Shane is wrong in his belief that Rick wasn’t made for this world. Rick is a changeling. She sees it in the way he moves and talks. He has way with people no one else does, not even Shane, and there is something in his eyes that is all too familiar. Rick will be forged in this world as was she so long ago. 

She smiles in kind, the very one that makes Carl fluster, and breaks his gaze. Sometimes it feels as if Rick sees too much of her somehow, the way he does with everyone else. It unsettles her. 

“I like to pull my own weight. Whether that by looking for Sophia, going on a run, or even washing clothes.” 

Rick chuckles and smiles warmly. “Yeah, I imagine Lori appreciates that last one, even if it isn’t something you’re particularly used to.” 

There’s a pause in the conversation, a lapse that is filled with questions as they look at one another and over the farm. The morning air is charged with something that only continues to build and loom over them. Soon, there will be no escape from it. 

“You said you worked for the government. You’ve got to know more than we do.” 

Natasha knew this was something coming her way. Many of the others had already asked in their own ways but never received the answer they wanted. It is frustrating not knowing. Natasha does not appreciate the uncertainty or the confusion that it brings. 

“Strange things had been happening long before this mess, Rick,” she wonders what he would if she knew as much as she did. “No one had the chance to find out before the outbreak was immeasurable.” 

His voice cracks. “‘Strange things’?” 

She shifts her injured leg, stretching her toes. By tomorrow, she supposes she should be able to walk around normally. Natasha looks back to him, to his confused frown and furrowed brows, and smiles emptily at him. “Things that no longer matter.” 

He swallows hard, frustration and disappointment flash across his face in rapid succession. Rick shakes his head and looks out towards the woods.   
“The men you came across. What happened with them?” 

Natasha looks out across the lawn at the RV. It’s been a quiet morning. “They were tracking Sophia and gathering bodies for whatever reasons. By the way they talked they had a group.” 

Rick furrows his brow, his brows pinched in confusion. “You think they’ll come this way?” 

“They were pretty far from here when I ran across them. I doubt they’ll come looking this way unless given a reason. They were clean and well kept, they had some place of their own.” 

He looks at her, his eyes hard. “What did you do?”

Natasha studies him for a moment, wondering how he and the rest of the group would react to her true nature. Something for another day. “I took care of them before they could get Sophia. That’s what matters.” 

Rick looks like he wants to say more but he is growing to trust her and is beginning to take her word for what it is worth. It is a hard world and this Rick, in this moment, is still learning to grow with it. Rick nods his head slowly before standing. It is going to be a long week. 

Natasha makes it a point to avoid the RV but then again, so does everyone else. From what Jenner has told her, Sophia is much worse, it won’t be long now. 

The air is much cooler mid-day than it has been since they arrived. The summer heat wavering and winter is soon to follow. Carl has begun to follow her like a shadow. She smiles to herself as she catches him peaking over at her from behind his chosen tree. He tucks his head bashfully but approaches her and Jenner, who is currently checking her wound diligently, and sits next to the two of them in the lawn chair next to her. 

Jenner finishes wrapping the new gauze over the nearly healed wound, shaking his head in disbelief as the speed of healing. Carl peaks over at her leg, his nose and lip scrunched up in morbid fascination. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, settling back into his chair. 

She can hear Lori pinning the clothes from behind them, her rhythm faltering as she realizes Carl is here with her. Lori has not quite yet climbed over her wall of anger and frustration at being held back the night Rick and Glenn went off for Hershel. Natasha had been quick to catch on and let it slip to Shane what she was up to. The blow-up was inevitable. It had only been when Shane brought up the baby that she backed down, suddenly overcome with guilt and hesitation. Lori had realized that it was, in fact, Natasha who kept her from leaving the farm. 

Natasha shakes her head gently, careful to meet his eyes. She could tell the boy was growing restless being treated as a child, he wanted to do more than his parents and others were willing to give. Lori wanted to shelter him and Rick wanted to please his wife, it left Carl with no room to move. He had long begun to leave the proverbial nest. 

“Not any more than yours does.”

Carl grins. “Guess we’re a lot alike now, huh? Does this make me as tough as a spy?”

Natasha winks and nods her head ever so slightly. “What a spy you would be.” 

Lori packs up the borrowed cleaning supplies and the extra line behind them and begins to walk back to the farmhouse. Once she reaches the front door, Carl seems to collapse in on himself, shoulders hunched and head low. His smile gone. 

“I heard Shane tell mom that Sophia only has a few hours left before…” he chokes on the words. “They already dug her a spot.”

Natasha has long since grown used to the reality of dead. It had been a part of her life as long as she can remember. She can remember fearing it, of what it took from you as a person but it hadn’t taken long before she was taught to ignore that fear and use it as a tool. These are not things she can tell this boy. None of those things had comforted her and they are not things she wants to tell him. Natasha watches him pick at the skin around his nails before finally making up her mind. She pulls him in close wrapping her arms around him despite the awkwardness and pain the movement brings to her leg. Carl tucks his clammy forehead into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and lets out hard, shaky breaths. 

They bury Sophia just before dark. Carol whimpers as she gives her daughter to Shane to be lowered down. Natasha leans against the makeshift crutch next to Jenner and Carl. Carl holds onto her hand even as Lori hugs him tight to her side. Carl insists on helping Natasha back to the house his arm wrapped around her like he has seen the others do when the distance was long. Natasha smiles to herself as he tries his best to support her weight.   
It is a long walk back. The summer nights are no longer as stuffy as the days. The air has grown cooler in the past two weeks. A light breeze runs up Natasha’s back and ruffles her hair.

She can’t see Daryl off in distance, only the small kindling flames of his fire where he has separated himself from the others. Daryl holds his pain in, lets it fester inside of him until he’s gone rotten with it. Natasha hikes up to his small patch of land. She’s purposeful in her loud footsteps and is sure to step on every fallen twig. Daryl roughly pulls himself out of his tent, voice rough and mid-yell until he takes proper notice of her. 

Natasha smiles coyly at him as he looks her up and down, his mouth still in his habitual sneer and his eyes slanted. 

“What?”

She shrugs, leaning against the trunk of the large oak tree. “Not privy to visitors?”

Daryl scoffs as he throws a few more dry pieces of wood into the dying flame. “I’ve got enough from this group and nothing much good.” 

Most days, before all this, Natasha had felt she was surrounded by bleeding emotions. In some form or another, they seemed to ooze out of the people she was surrounded by. Clint was never one for being stoic, his heart lied over his sleeve. Stark gave off arrogance and confidence only to hide a persona few got to see. She herself had only seen him let go when he was ready to drink himself to death as his own life support began to kill him. Natasha is used to the constant whirl of emotions; this group is no different.   
“Are you afraid?” She asks. His back goes straight, his muscles tense. 

“The only thing I got to be afraid of is one of those fucking brain-dead freaks getting too close and that ain’t likely.”  
Men like Daryl are hard and frustrating but Natasha has been trained into patience. She knows he isn’t likely to share nothing but anger and dissatisfaction with her but that is to tell where his head is. 

“Your place in the group hasn’t changed.” The air is tense and Daryl doesn’t look at her but the branch in his hand snaps. “You’re the one who’s trying to change it.”   
“I’m not Shane!” He turns rapidly, staring her down, teeth bared. “I don’t need you tryin’ to shrink my damn head.”

Natasha stares blankly at him. Daryl throws down the broken branch, kicking up the dirt. 

“You could use this group.” 

On the fourth day, she and Shane head out back into town. They go further in this time, where the houses sit hauntingly and empty. Winter is on the verge of arriving and the group is in dire need of proper gear and materials. Shane has grown more unraveled since Randal arrived and the news of Lori’s baby broke. Natasha has begun to watch him more wearily, she knows that a bad end is coming but she can’t tell what kind and who will be on the end. She thinks, given the chance, he will kill Rick. 

They pull into the driveway of a prominent house on the block; what once must’ve been a beautiful garden is now wild and overgrown with weeds. The white trim has yellowed and peeled in the harsh Atlanta heat. Shane pushes in the door with relative ease. There is a fine layer of dust coating everything in the living room. There is no blood on the walls, nothing in disarray to match the outside of the house. Natasha feels unsettled. 

Shane heads into the kitchen. She hears him rummaging through the cabinets and he lets out a low shout of victory. 

“Hope you like canned beans and corn, Red.”

Natasha heads upstairs, the stairs make no noise and there is no sound from the hall. The thumps the walls with her fist but only silence greets her. The first room is rather dark and messy. Natasha begins to pull clothes from the drawers. Most everything here is too long for Carl but she can see that most his pants legs have started slowly inching up. The closets are much more useful. There are plenty of thick, winter clothes. Natasha fingers over the jackets carefully, looking for one that resembles Carl’s now bloody and ruined one. 

Further down the hall is the master bedroom. It is well kept, preserved in time. There is a family portrait on the wall; Natasha looks away. She almost feels as if she is intruding now as she goes through the woman’s things. Most of the clothes are much too nice to be of practical use but she grabs the men’s flannels for Lori. Natasha pauses over a small, framed photo of a redheaded woman wearing large, white pearls. She grips it tightly in her hand, the metal frame denting in her grip. She swallows hard and quickly puts it back face down on the vanity. Sudden memories were not unheard of but she had long grown used to keeping them suppressed since the Red Room. 

Not for the first time, Natasha feels unsettled since arriving in this world. 

Shane is in the doorway, his duffle bag limp in his hand heavy with canned foods. He cocks his head at her, slow and calculating in a way she can tell would make most uncomfortable. He sets the bag down. 

“You all right there, Red?” 

Natasha doesn’t step back as he moves closer, doesn’t flinch when fingers brush her cheek as he pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She stares him down as he lets out a breath. The smell of whiskey curdles the air and Natasha almost wants to laugh. Men like Shane are hard learners. 

The light dips lower through the window, the shadow cast over them in perfect, fake movie lighting. Natasha lets Shane hold her as he cries over the woman he thought loved him.   
They drive back in silence, undisturbed. 

Later, Carl gushes over his new jacket and Lori looks less agitated when their eyes meet. That night they all sit huddled around the campfire, sharing stories of what lives they had led before and Natasha whispers foreign words into Carl’s ear and he repeats them back, fumbling them on his tongue. 

The fifth day comes and goes. Carl speaks to her in broken, fumbling Russian. Shane’s eyes linger on the shed, on Lori, on Rick, all in same the unstable way. He looks ragged. He looks at Natasha like he wants to ask for more. 

Jenner is out of his shell more often than not. The far-off look in his eyes has gone and has yet to resurface. He helps tend to the farm animals. His hands only shake when they are empty. When Natasha watches she can’t help but wonder if he was meant to live. Had she changed something when she pulled him from his own death?  
She teaches the women how to use blades properly. Their movements go from choppy to smooth and graceful. Natasha smiles, proud when Maggie actually manages to throw a blade into the practice dummies head. It is a pleasant day until it isn’t. 

When the evening sun settles in Shane’s unsteadiness takes a turn for the worst. The rest of the group has gone indoors for dinner. Hershel has become more partial to them since Rick and Glenn brought him back from town. Shane is still the odd man out, however. The familiar scent of whiskey lingers on the man’s breath. It is sharp and bitter to her senses, it oozes from his pores and hair.

Shane grabs her roughly and pulls her out from view of the house. She tenses against his grip but this is a role she been in before. Nothing Shane can do frightens her. Natasha glares up at him but he only leans closer, his breath warm and clammy against her cheek. He whispers like a conspirator into her ear. 

“Red, we gotta kill the kid.” He looks over her shoulder, too the dim light the kitchen windows let out across the yard. “Rick made a mistake.” 

She looks at him for a long time. It is has been a long while since someone has made her feel out of step. Natasha has wanted to help Shane, had believed he wasn’t too far gone but the grip he has on her wrist is bruising and the bloodlust in his eyes has yet to leave his eyes. 

“No.”

Shane’s left eye twitches and his teeth grind against each other, his jaw flexing in agitation. 

“Red- “

“It isn’t your decision, it’s Rick’s.” She gauges his reaction. “But you don’t want it to be, do you? You want Rick to be gone. You want things to be like before he ever came back along.” 

His left fist slams against the tree behind her head. She can hear his knuckles pop unsettlingly. Shane looks like he’s gone rabid. 

“You are walking on a very thin thread, Shane. I suggest you stop looking at Rick the way you do. People are starting to notice. You’re falling apart.”

Shane pulls her arm as she walks away. Natasha is quick to twist his behind his back. She leans down, clutching tighter at his wrist, and speaks softly into his ear. 

“I consider us friends, Shane but I’m in the business of killing, and you are a danger.” 

She leaves him in the grass and walks back to the house where Rick sits on the swing. He stares at her strangely and looks back to the campsite. 

“You can only turn a blind eye so long, before reality bites back, Rick.”

 

The sixth day, Shane and Rick argue as they carry Randal out of the shed, the hood over his head and loud blaring music screaming in his ears. He’s finally healed enough to leave. The limp in his leg will stay with him for the rest of his life but he has a chance still. 

Shane still thinks Rick should have never brought him back to the farm and Natasha agrees. Rick, who is still too soft-hearted, made a mistake. By bringing the boy here he put the whole farm at risk. Carl watches from behind her, still too close for his mother’s liking but he has grown more willful and Natasha knows that is on her. 

They watch the SUV drive off until there is nothing more than dirt left in the air. 

“Natasha, are they going to kill him?” Carl looks up at her, eyes wide and filled with morbid curiosity. 

“Not this time.”


	15. Chapter 15

Natasha has long since mastered the art of torture. She has perfected it. 

Daryl is rough and sloppy in his methods but there is intent in his every move. Natasha bares down on the heel of her foot, pressing it deeper against the healing wound. Randal lets out a wailing cry, screaming and sobbing for her to stop. She watches him, arms crossed and face relaxed. She twists her foot once more. 

There are no markings on the boy’s wrist, nothing that visibly links him to the men in the woods. Natasha steps back and lets Daryl tease his skin with the blade of his hunting knife. He begs again, mouth bloody and words running together as he tells them what he knows about his group and the girls and their father. Natasha stares him down, her fingers itch and not for the first time since he’s arrived, she thinks about killing him. Men who do nothing because of their own fear are worthless. 

“You and your boyfriend break up?”

Natasha rolls her eyes before dipping her hands back into the water bucket. The dried blood yellows in the cool water. “If I remember correctly, and I do, you said you’re ‘not some damn girl’ when it comes to gossip.”

Daryl knocks her hands out of the way, the water splashing to the ground. “Yeah, yeah. That gonna be a problem?” 

“No more than it is for Rick,” she shakes her hands dry. “If it comes to it, it’ll be one of us who kill him.” 

“Shane or the kid?” Daryl asks, eyes narrowed from the sun, brow pinched. 

Natasha sucks at her teeth. It is a loaded question but she knows whatever she says Daryl will be of no issue. Daryl was right when he said this group was broken. This was no longer a world meant for democracy and they are in a constant power struggle.

“I have no issue being the one who pulls the trigger for either one.” 

She manages to avoid Dale for most the day. She has no interest in playing politics. They are of no use to her or any of them here. Humanity and survival are two sides of the same coin. As far as she is concerned, if Rick asked, she would kill Randal and if he doesn’t, she’ll do it when the time comes for this to end. 

Making the hard choices and carrying them out is nothing new for her. 

Dale catches up to her eventually after she’s left Daryl’s camp. There is no hope that he will change her mind on the matter but still, she hears him out. It’s not every day you meet a man who still in the face of death believes in chance. Rick had been like that when they had first met but things had been different. He was slowly growing and changing to be what this world needed. There had been hope of safety from this mess. 

“You remind me of my wife, you know?”

Natasha looks over at Dale, confused and a bit surprised. She furrows her brow and he chuckles lightly, smiling over at her.  
“She had the same attitude as you toward life, the same determined eyes, and not to mention that fiery red hair.” He smiles at her again, folding and refolding his hat. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were her for a short moment.”

Natasha meets his eye, smiling as best she can. “Sorry to disappoint." 

"Natasha, do you really think this is right?”

She stares down at her hands, studying the old silver scars and burns. She no longer remembers how they came to be. “It doesn’t really matter what I think, Dale.”  
He gives her an exasperated look, “Yes, it does matter. This is a young boy’s life we’re threatening to take away. Do you really think that we should kill him to prevent something that may never happen?”

She didn’t know how to tell him that she was the wrong person to be asking. She had already killed so many, age hadn’t mattered. If they were a potential threat, you took them out. No questions asked.

Natasha takes a few steps forward, away from him, “It might not be right, but it is the best thing to do. I’m sorry, Dale.”

He shakes his head, disappointment clear on his face. Natasha felt a sharp sting from deep within her chest as she left him there alone. Dale was an idealist, and this was not the world people like him. As long as there was a reason to fear something, there could be no room for democracy or mercy. It is a factor of life she had long since come to grow used to. In times of ruin, you protect your group and if you have no group, you do what it takes to stay alive. 

And this is her group, new and struggling, and she would burn the world down to protect them. If Clint had shown her anything in their time together since that fateful first night they met, it was that you defended your beliefs and protected what was yours. Natasha frowns at the thought. Clint had always been her heart when she found hers lacking. The pathos to her logos, the joke had always gone. 

It wouldn’t be long now before the vote was in. The sunlight began to dip away. 

Natasha sneaks into the RV. It’s convenient for the first time since Andrea is off on babysitting duty and Dale is away trying fight a lost cause. She opens the small kitchenette cabinets under the sink, fingering the roof until she came into contact with her own two guns and spare ammo, tucking the guns in the inner pockets of the black windbreaker she wears. Something will happen soon, she can feel it on her skin, the feeling follows her constantly. 

The insects chitter with the dying of the light and out of the woods comes Carl. He stops abruptly when he sees her, his skin is flushed with more than the chill air and his pupils dilated. Natasha raises an eyebrow as she looks at his muddy shoes and pants. 

“What’re you doing in the RV?” The words slip off surprisingly well from his tongue, the Russian more comprehensible than before. 

“What happened to you?” Carl furrows his brows as he slowly translates the question in his own head. 

“I fell.” 

They meet each other halfway. Natasha checks him over for injuries, lifting his chin to make him meet her eyes. Fear. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

The meeting, as expected, is more or less a shit show. 

Despite all of Dale’s efforts, everyone else’s fears outweigh what may or may not be right. It leaves a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. 

Natasha ends up dealing with Carl. She remembers being his age, but their lives had vast differences and at times, Natasha found that it was difficult to understand and know how to comfort him. Children had never particularly been her area of expertise. She had gone most her youth beating others down. It was odd, to say the least.

Carl sits across from the barn, far away enough the others won’t see him unless they are actively looking. His knees are tucked tight to his chest and his chin down as he watches from the brim of his hat. Natasha sits down next to him, leaning against the broad tree. It is almost completely dark. Rick and Shane can barely be seen in the dim barn flood lights. 

“They only treat me like a kid.” 

The men disappear behind the barn doors. 

“There are worse things to be than young,” she tells him. 

“Yeah right.” 

They sit quietly for a while, waiting for a single killing gunshot. It doesn’t come. 

Natasha can hear arguing coming from the barn, Rick and Shane yelling over one another. The barn doors swing open as Shane and Rick tumble out kicking. Natasha jumps to her feet only stopping to push Carl back down with her hand on his chest. She runs across the field and pulls Shane away from Rick while Daryl does the same.   
Natasha can’t say she is surprised by the events unfolding. Rick isn’t ready to kill again, and Shane is much too eager. Men. Shane struggles against her grip, but she is unrelenting. 

“Dad!” 

Rick and Shane still. Randall cries out in confusion. Shane yanks against Natasha and she lets him fall from her hold. He drops to the ground roughly, cursing and spitting the blood from his lip to the ground. He looks over at Carl, whose eyes are wide and confused. The last time the two of them had gotten into it they had managed to hide the fact from Carl, but now bitter realization settled on his face. 

Rick runs a hand through his hair, sighing regretfully before leading Carl back to the camp. Shane storms off. Natasha and Daryl look at one another and then to the barn where Randal is still calling out to them. 

“Looks like you were right,” he walks back inside the barn. “one of us is going to end up cleaning this mess if this isn’t finished soon.” 

Natasha follows him in, grabbing the rope Daryl hands her as he gags Randal once more. She begins to knot it around the boy’s wrist. “What happened?”

Daryl snorts in disdain. “What do ya think? Don’t know why Rick bothered to let him come, always ends in a damn fight anyway.” 

The guns seem to grow heavier in her coat pockets. She looks down at Randall as he squirms and whimpers, feeling nothing for him except the need to protect the others.   
“Rick is going to realize what he needs to do, sooner or later. I don’t think it’s going to be a pleasant sight whenever that catalyst hits.” 

A stiff wind passes through barn doors and the hair on the back of her neck rises. Natasha pauses mid-step. 

“What?” Daryl’s gruff voice sounds far away. 

A scream echoes across the farm. Natasha pulls a gun from her jacket and runs through the fields, Daryl only a step behind her. The moonlight illumines them hauntingly as they barrel through. She can hear the others calling out. As the walker and Dale’s prone form come into view Daryl dives forward, tackling the walker to the ground. 

Natasha kneels down next to Dale. His screams have tapered off, his cries nothing more than bloody gargles of breath. His ribcage is torn open, spread wide with messy precision. His organs lay bare and punctured. Blood oozes from every area, leaking down in the grass and soaking the knee of her pants. Natasha grabs his hand. There is nothing they can do, not this time. There’s already blood in his lungs; if he doesn’t die from blood loss first he will suffocate. 

When the time comes, Daryl is the one who ends it. 

Natasha doesn’t sleep that night. She sits up on the roof of the RV trying to will herself away from this world. Death after death, Natasha is long since used to such a life but the weight of living in this world has long since begun to take its toll. She prefers when the strangest thing in her world was demi-gods and threats from space. She wonders what Clint would make of all this. Natasha swallows that down what comes up with that thought. Was there anything even left of her world? 

It had been a long time since she felt this empty handed. She wanted answers no one in this world could answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short and a bit choppy but you ever just get tired reading our own work over and over trying to expand it? But alas, this next chapter shall be an exciting changing point for the group! This is where cannon begins to dive off into something else for a while! 
> 
> Also, I'm quite sure that down the road the pairing will be Daryl and Natasha!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night all hell breaks loose.

No one gets much sleep on the night Dale dies.

After the funeral, while the others are moving their things into the Greene house, Natasha corners Rick when he is finally alone. She has no good feelings about the upcoming days, something is always trailing behind them it seems. It weighs them down. The others have grown weary of more than just the walkers.

Every day seems longer than the last but never in the way they need it to be.

Rick doesn’t look any better than before. The bruising and cuts along his brow and temple have scabbed up, turning a deep red against his pale, wind burnt skin. Natasha leads him away from the view of the others, trying to keep suspicion to the minimum. She crosses her arms and looks up at him. She meets his eyes, refusing to lose his gaze.

“Rick, this isn’t going to go how you want it to.”

Rick sighs heavily, rubbing his hand against his head. “Natasha, please. I’m doing what’s best for this group.” “

You had that option before. Right now, you’re trying to do right by Dale.” Natasha takes a step closer to him and rests a hand on his arm. “You know this isn’t going to end the way you want it to.”

“If you’re worried about Shane, I have Andrea looking after the kid.”

“If you don’t think Shane will find a way to get what he wants then you’re turning a blind eye. Rick, you know more than you’d like to believe. You know what has to be done.” He furrows a brow and his lips curl in anger.

“Just what are you suggesting?”

“You’ve known Shane. You know how he is.” She lowers her voice. “You’re going to have to take control. There’s no room for democracy anymore.”

\-------

Carl avoids her for most of the morning just as he avoids his father and Shane. He glum and downtrodden with the weight of guilt. It is a look Natasha could recognize anywhere. Most people tend not to know how to hide the same from their eyes. Natasha lets him be. He’ll come to her when he is ready.

Most of the day is spent carrying supplies and boarding up the lower levels of the house. To some extent, it almost feels like a new kind of normal. Just as there always it, something nags at the back of Natasha’s head. The ‘sixth sense’ had never been wrong and she doubted it would start today. Natasha hammers one last nail into the plank before stepping back to admire her work. It’s sturdy enough to last a bad beating.

 Jenner watches her as she packs a spare bag, “Planning on leaving?”

She pauses, her fingers lingering on the cold steel of a blade. “No, but it doesn’t hurt having something to spare.”

Natasha finishes off the bag with a few lightweight nonperishables and tucks it up into the wedge of a few branches of a tree close to the edge of the farm. It’s nothing too much but it will help them along if something goes bad. She steps back and circles the tree, checking to see if she can see it all. Jenner stares at her in his usual uneasy manner, when he wants to say more but doesn’t know how to form his words.

“How do you see this ending?”

“Life on the farm or the kid?” He doesn’t reply right away.

“Both. You ever get the feeling this is too good to last?”

Natasha turns back towards the house, mostly everyone had dispersed from the front of the house. It looked strange and unwelcoming now with it all boarded up. “In this world, we’re always going to be looking over our shoulder. There will always be something else.”

It doesn't take long for Natasha's bad feeling to come to light. With the barn empty and Shane gone it doesn't take a genius to put it together; even when Shane comes back bloody and bleeding, his face full of false worry.

Natasha thinks about killing him right there. She could do it quick. A single gunshot would end this problem but she can see Rick. Rick swallows hard, rest his hands on his belt close to his gun. He has a strange look about his face. A look Natasha has seen only a few times since they've first met. It's a look Natasha knows. Rick meets her eyes. He searches her face for something and looks away when she nods her head ever so slightly, something only for him to see. Rick clenches his jaw before barking out orders for them to search the woods and the others to get back into the house. Natasha stays behind and ushers the others back inside. She looks for Rick one last time, watches him and Shane at the edge of the woods their backs turned.

Rick is ridged with settled rage. He flexes his hand.

\---

"Natasha!" Lori calls for her, her voice wet and desperate. She runs up to Natasha, placing her hands on her shoulders as if she needed help to keep standing. "Have you see Carl? He's gone; I looked all over the house and he's gone. Please, Natasha, tell me you've seen him."

Natasha furrows her brow. A cold chill worms its way up her spine and her stomach fills with heavy dread. She searches Lori's wide and terror-filled eyes for something more to say but the thought of Carl not being in the house gives her the same uneasiness as before.

"We'll find him." Lori cries.

Glenn and Daryl come in from the side door empty-handed. The more they talk about the strangeness of the situation of Randal being turned without a bite Jenner shuffles uncomfortably. Shane and Rick still haven't come back. Natasha knows only one of them will.

Natasha steps outside with Daryl only for him to grab her by the arm. She looks up and out into the field. She lets out a long breath as the hoard of walkers, far larger than any before, make their way across the farm.

"There's too many," she steps back and takes count of the others. They're all too panicked to be thinking clearly.

"We need to get out of here."

"Get the guns," Natasha orders. "If Rick and Shane are still out there they're either in the middle of it or they're about to be."

Natasha searches the house up and down, looking for any old hideaways he might have curled up into. Lori's frantic crying echoes throughout the house and curls around Natasha unsettling. Something heavy is settling inside of her. The thought of Carl being lost as well is not something she'd like to carry with her. Children lingered with you.

"Natasha!"

She jogs back outside to the porch, a small lingering of hope emits at the thought of Carl being found but she is only met with loaded guns and fearful faces. "We're gonna take some of the walkers out and steer them away from the house,"Daryl's bike rumbles loudly against the distant moaning out in the field.

Natasha looks out to the barn, its dark silhouette suddenly illuminated by bright, orange flame.

"Fire."

Natasha hops on to the back of Daryl's bike, gun ready in hand. She turns back to Jenner who is standing awkwardly with a gun in hand.

"Ride the top of the RV and shoot from above." She meets his eyes and in a much softer voice says, "You can do this."

The flames grow higher and begin to engulf the barn. The sky is now dark and cloudy with smoke, the stars and moonlight dimmed. The shoot in near total darkness only guided by flame. The heat smothers at Natasha's skin. She leans in close to Daryl and shouts so he can hear her over the noise.

"Carl might've started the fire! We have to get over there." Daryl speeds around the new bunch of walkers breaking through what is left of the wire fence and rides up next to where Jimmy and Jenner are parked shooting. Natasha hops smoothly off the bike, Daryl yells after her.

"I'll be fine, they'll need more help."

Daryl stares hard at her, his face scrunched in uncertainty before slowly nodding his head and riding off to help give them room. He only looks back once.

They are right on the money.

Rick and Carl both stand on the very back edge of the barn, yelling and waving frantically as they pull up. The flames lick even hire. Natasha climbs out of the RV window to its roof, Jenner pulls her up with shaky hands. Rick pats her shoulder as they cross over from the barn and Carl grabs her hand, pulling desperately. Natasha looks from the RV as another wave of burning walkers push and stumble their way out of the back of the burned out barn. Her eyes widen and she yells out for Jimmy.

"Jimmy, get out! Get out!" The RV shakes with the weight and force of them barreling into its side. Jimmy's screams seem to pierce through the night and everything surrounding them. Natasha grimaces, baring down against her teeth as blood splatters across the windshield.

"Come on, now!" Natasha looks away and climbs down after Carl with Jenner following behind her.

They abandon the van, racing through the dead and shooting where they can. Rick takes notice of the other cars further out as they run towards the safety of the woods. "What're they doing?"

"Trying to corral them. There's too many this point. They'll head back soon and make a run for the highway. It's our best shot now." Natasha stops suddenly, pulling both Rick and Jenner back before they can move another step. Another herd breaks through the edge of the woods. Natasha shoots two down but they advance towards them too quickly; their grimy fingers nearly touching them.

"Shit, there behind us!" Jenner yells frantically behind her.

Rick pops off a few more rounds. The two walkers go down fast and hard.

"Go into the woods, go! I'll buy you time."

Natasha whips around shooting another walker from her side. She pushes closer to Rick to make sure Carl is secure. Rick is right; a distraction is needed. "We can make it together!"

"Natasha, listen to me. Take Carl and Jenner with you and get to a car."

There are at least a dozen walkers coming towards them now, the flames no longer luring them when fresh food is too close to miss. Natasha swallows hard before grabbing Carl's hand and pulling him along with her and Jenner into the woods. She tries not to think out about the amount trust he is putting into her.

"Natasha, no, we can't leave him!" Carl cries out as he fights her hold.

"He knows what he's doing, Carl. We'll see him again, I promise."

They end up running deeper than intended as a few stragglers bee-line in front of them. The echoes of gunfire are lost in the woods with seemingly no real direction. They walk endlessly, following the dark trail of soot still gathering in the air, slowly drifting with the wind. Carl shivers beside her, folding closer to himself. Natasha curses herself as the moon and constellations become clouded and undiscernable in the night sky. She looks for another guiding star but there is nothing to see. Their only hope of getting out of the woods tonight was to keep going forward in the strange darkness.

She counts the minutes in her head. Twenty minutes have passed since their path changed and thirty since they last saw Rick. A beam of white light flickers across the trees far off in front of them.

"Hey!" Carl runs ahead, ignoring Natasha's and Jenner's calls to stop.

Her lungs burn as she dodges low-hanging branches and even terrain. Carl was nearly within her reach when he stopped dead in his tracks. The light blinds her. Natasha reaches for her gun but the familiar click of a six-shooter stops her.

The light moves and adjust until Natasha can finally make out the six, well-armed men standing in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long to get posted and sorry if its a bit jumpy. I've been terribly busy with college so I took a break because I had no motivation or time. 
> 
> This is the beginning of where the story starts to diverge a bit from WD canon. I really wanted to write the winter months in this story since they;re not touched in the show. This is also the beginning of Natasha slowly finding out how she got here and where everyone she knows have gone. 
> 
> Let me know what you think about this chapter! Or your own theories so far, I really enjoying hearing from y'all.


	17. THE KEEPERS

The men force them to their knees, guns cocked. The only sounds are their heavy breathing and the distant moans of the incoming walkers. The leader of the group steps forward, leaning down until he is nose to nose with Jenner.

Carl huddles closer to her side, his face buried in her shoulder. Natasha watches them warily, her fingers twitching to grab the blade strapped to her leg. The man looks back in the direction of the farm, where smoke is still billowing high in the night sky, clouding the air and stars. This close, Natasha can make out his face in the dull moonlight and the beams of light coming from their flashlights. The man is round in the face, well fed, and clean. The only dirt on him is what his boots picked up trekking through the wounds.

He grabs Jenner by the hair, tugging forcefully until he looks up at him. "You guys cause all that?"

Jenner blinks sluggishly while trying to meet Natasha's own eyes, the blood from the gash along his eyebrow drips down his left cheek. He must've caught a branch to his face. Natasha juts her chin up ever so slightly so not to draw more attention. Jenner swallows and nods, wincing when he pulls his hair against the hand holding it.

"We were swarmed by those things. The fire got out of control."

The man glances from Jenner to Natasha, leering down at her only barely glancing at Carl. "This your family?"

Jenner pauses, his breathing heavy. "Yes, my wife and my son."

The man lets go of Jenner's hair, making him fall back into the dirt. The man walks closer to Natasha, smiling falsely kind as he squats down and fingers at her hair. Natasha lets her features morph into the fear this man obviously wants to see, she makes sure to whimper when his fingers graze her cheek. He looks down at Carl waving his flashing light down over them and into their eyes.

"He doesn't look much like you, pops," he whistles mockingly. "Your little wife run around on you?"

Jenner groans as he pushes himself back up to his knees. "Step-son, I've raised him since he was a baby."

The man smiles again, looking back down at Natasha. "Good, good. Family is all we have left in this world now. Good that you've kept yours."

The man stands upright, takes one last look behind them and towards the far-off burning farm before whistling at his men.

"Well, boys, we better run. Not worth doing this shit tonight." He puts away his gun and points for his men to take hold of them.

One of the three men gathers their hands, wrapping corse rope around their wrist and ties them individually into well-practiced knots. The thick threads of the rope already begin to chafe and pull at her skin. This close Natasha can make out the man's dark hair and the deep scar that runs horizontally across his nose. His hands linger as he checks for weapons, purposely caressing and grabbing her waist and legs. Natasha shoulders him hard in the chin when he leans down for her knife.

The man flings back, shoving Natasha onto her behind and nearly onto her back.

"Hey, don't hurt her!" Carl lunges at the man.

The man puts Carl in a headlock, tightening his arm threateningly around the boy's neck until he stops struggling and finally stops kicking out to get away. Carl struggles to catch his breath, gasping heavy and uneven as he looks at Natasha for help, his bravado gone.

"Let him go!" Jenner barks out. His voice is different and harsh. Natasha is surprised by the intense look of anger on his face. It rolls over him like a wave and recedes just as quick when he realizes himself.

The group leader comes back, stepping close behind the man who still has Carl in grip, and pats at his shoulders.

"Now, now, Stevie. Let the boy go, you know how kids are. He just wants to protect his mama."

Carl is dropped to the ground, he gasps for air but crawls over to Natasha and helps her back up. Natasha wants to reach out and check him over, but she can only hold his chin in tips of her fingers. She checks his face and eyes; his cheeks are still flushed but he is fine for now.

She whispers to him so only he can hear her in her native tongue. "We will be fine."

The leader crouches down beside and smiles warmly. "Now, I'm sorry about that but Stevie here is a stickler for rules and manners. You're going want to keep on his good side. Now get up nice and slow. We're gonna take y'all to a safe place."

Jenner is tugged to his feet by the leader, who pats him on the back and brushes the dirt off his shoulders as if they were lifelong friends. Jenner Stares questioningly as the man, peaking over at Natasha and then back to the man as if he wants her to tell him what to do.

"Who are you?" The question comes out louder and harder than Jenner attends but the man doesn't flinch.

The man smiles from ear to ear and claps Jenner once more on the shoulder. "Glad you asked. Call me Marcus."

They are lead through the woods and until eventually, they come across a back road made only from dirt and wear from repeated travel through it. Marcus helps them all into the back of a dark SUV, he smiles kindly still in the dim yellow light of the car interiors bulbs and pats Carl on the knee before closing the door.

He leans against the door and hovers his through the open window. "Now, don't worry. You'll be safe where we're going."

The car ride is long and rough. The road, despite being well traveled, is rough with debris and misshapen land. Natasha counts the miles. The men had come in two cars. There are five of them in total, three from the woods, the leader, and the one they had met at the cars. The two in the front seats don't say a word. Marcus is in the car in front of them leading the way. Carl falls asleep against her as the long drive continues. The exhaustion from everything that had happened finally had set in and he slumps over heavy with sleep. Jenner looks warily from the men to her. She can barely make out his face in the darkness of the car, but she knows he is afraid. She can feel it in the air.

Every nerve in her body is burning.

They drive until the morning sun rises and the dim light rays of first light begin to peak through the clouds. Carl stirs against her as the light runs over his face and they pull into the back of large, long building. Carl sits up and blinks dazedly, leaning forward as best he can and tries to look out at what's in front of them.

"Are we at a school?"

The driver pulls to a stop close to what must be a back door and laughs. "Welcome to Hillside Jr. High. Or as Marcus likes to call it: home."

They're guided through the darkened school hallways. Natasha can make out the vague white noise of people talking somewhere in the rooms they pass by and the humming of what must be a generator judging by the dim backup lights that give shape to their surroundings.

People peak at them from open doorways that led to what once was classrooms. Children stare openly until their mothers pull them away and hush their questions. The cool air feels like a relief from the heat of the car ride but now Natasha can feel the grime and dirt drying on her skin. She is more uncomfortable then she would like to admit.

The men in front of them stop walking. Marcus turns the corner and smiles warmly at them.

"Hey, guys!" He pulls out a blade and cuts the rope from Carl's and her wrists. "Sorry about all this, but you never know who you're dealing with in this world."

Carl rubs his rest and backs closer to Natasha until his back is pressed against her stomach. Natasha wraps her arms around him like she has seen Lori do so many times before. Marcus looks back at Jenner.

"Now, I would cut yours too, but I'd like to have a chat first." He looks back to his companion from the woods, the deep scar looks even more jagged in actual light. "Stevie, why don't you take these two the auditorium to get some rest while they wait for Pops here."

Natasha looks over her should wearily at Jenner. She doesn't like this, but she has little choice to play along with the role expected of her until she understands what this place is and who these people are.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it this far! How about dropping a review? Crush my soul, boost my ego, tell me your theories and interpretations. my stories and I live off your feed back. XO.


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